Meredith looked over at the other woman at the table, feeling the first stirrings of concern. She'd realised that the girl was feeling a little tipsy, but after finishing the two mugs now sitting on the table, she looked like she was ready to go face down in her third. Meredith slipped out of her seat and moved around to stand beside Syleen's chair and whispered softly in her ear.
"A tip for you, if you're feeling a little worse for wear... I can have a little chat with our friendly bar-keep there and ask him to put water in your tankard for every other ale that you order. It'll help you stay in the game longer and nobody need know but us girls... A brew that strong takes some getting used to, and there's no shame in it if you aren't used to strong drink...?"
Meredith honestly didn't know why, but she was feeling a bit protective of the lass. She also wasn't sure why she kept thinking of Syleen as 'lass' and 'girl'... Syleen can't have been more than a few years younger than her. But that protective urge was there all the same.
Maybe she just reminds me of me ten years ago, trying to keep up with the squaddies in the mess she thought, with a wistful half smile.
She waited quietly, to see how Syleen would respond.