"Oh, aye?" she asked, a teasing slant to her smile saying that she'd plainly need proof before she'd believe that John could out-drink her.

The hand holding was something she could never really remember having done before; perhaps something to be attributed to John the Not-So-Much-A-Bastard. But she couldn't help but wonder what it meant for them when the fights came back so easily, while the simpler, platonic moments took some adjustment.

She stood then, crossing the bench once more to retrieve her sketch pad. "You coming?" she asked, shooting John another grin and nodding toward the door. "Or are these new found drinkin' skills more the hypothetical sort?"