He was being charming. That is, he was trying to be charming – trying to appeal to her idea of what 'charming' meant – and he was succeeding. She grinned, accepting his chaste kisses and gentle touch, not even minding that he'd taken away her bottle of whiskey. Her eyes twinkled with amusement as he began, very slowly, laying out something the slightest bit exciting. At first she wasn't sure what it was, but she was far more interested than may have been apparent. In fact, had he been rambling on about nothing, Devon probably would have piped up with some reason why his idea was sub par before she actually knew what it was. He was the one with the alcohol experience, though – he knew how to make this fun. So, though it went against her nature to just sit quietly and listen, that's what she did, beaming at him as she listened to his every word with the sort of respect she gave to professors and senile, elderly wizards. He had her.

Truth or dare. She'd played before, but she was younger then, and both the questions and the dares were innocent things that left everyone laughing. As she grew older, though, she withdrew a bit. She brandished the excuse that the game was childish. Truthfully, she just knew that the questions were changing, and the dares. People didn't always leave a game of truth or dare grinning anymore. They left half-dressed and crying, they left feeling dirty or knowing things they wished they hadn't learned. Truth or dare was a threat to everything Devon Reinhardt held dear, so she called it childish. She couldn't claim it was childish now, though, because this was very Grown Up truth or dare – this is what she'd wanted at her birthday party, whether she realized it or not. There was no excusing herself in a poof of patronizing elitism – she had to play.

“I am not uppity, Teddy,” she complained, already beginning to act, well, uppity. In the wild, when small creatures felt threatened, they did a number of things to make themselves appear bigger to the predators that threatened them. Well, Devon felt threatened by this little game already, mostly because all she knew about truth or dare was that childish game she scorned, and acting a bit haughty was how she made herself seem bigger... and often, it worked. “Just because I respect myself and my ideas does not make me uppity. It makes me intelligent. I wish more people would try it,” she suggested with a short laugh. As intelligent as she claimed to be, however, Devon didn't completely understand his game. ”What we would do”? What did that mean? What she would do in what situation? Regarding what? It was quite vague, and she had a notion that he'd done that intentionally.

She reached out to claim the bottle of vodka. “Darling, how exactly does the alcohol factor into this? We just drink as we play, or is there more to it?” she asked, playing with the cap on the bottle, screwing and unscrewing it idly. “And while I'm asking questions, I don't suppose you have an example of some sort – you know, of how the truths are different? I'm just not sure I'm grasping it, and I can't very well prevent myself from getting uppity if I don't know what it is I'm supposed to be getting uppity about.”