[Daniel Rossington (Izzie)]

Neil sleepily lifted his head off of the table again, to see Foxford's hand extended to him. He resisted the urge to hit it with his own hand. "Certainly an...amusing evening...." he said slowly, trying to remember how to move. His brain seemed to be seeped in whiskey. He tried shaking his head, to clear it, but that only made things worse. He groaned, and pushed his long hair out of his eyes, and tried to stand. He stumbled a bit, but leaned heavily on the table in front of him, grabbing Foxford's outstretched hand.

"C'mon Foxford..." he said, slurring a bit, trying to help the other gentleman stand. He stumbled and fell into the table again, laughing.The movement sent his head sloshing again. "I think you need to help me stand, Foxford," he laughed.

[Arthur Dalrymple (Vikki)]

By this point, Arthur had downed the last dregs of his whisky, pushed himself laboriously to his feet, and was laughing at the others' antics. The laugh soon turned to a groan as the room started to sway uncomfortably and suddenly he was faced with two of everything. They'd never all get home at this rate, though.

"Maybe you should get your car--hic--carriage sent around. Hey, you there!" he called to one of the club's servants, hovering in the background. "Give Lord Foxford and Lord Daniel a hand." He'd offer himself, but they'd all end up in a heap on the floor. Trying to contain his sudden onslaught of hiccups, he bowed (not so easy when the floor wasn't staying still) and added, "Gentlemen, a pleasure. Must do it again."

[Marcus Fairmont (Alexandra)]

Marcus let out what might possibly have been a giggle (blame the drink) at Linley's near face-plant and then levered himself from the chair using both its arm rests.

"Success!" he muttered, wondering why drunkeness always hit so hard the moment one stood. Maybe standing made all the alcohol rush to the brain. Hang on one moment, did that make sense? Maybe it made all the blood rush from the brain, concentrating the alcohol it left there? Yes, perhaps. Maybe this was far too complicated for ...five in the morning? He glanced at his fobwatch but was unable to ascertain much from it. Ah, long hand points to... a squiggly line? Oh, hang it. Time for bed.

"Again soon," Marcus agreed, sleepily. "Tomorrow!" he added, ambitiously. He was far too foxed to gauge the havoc this whiskley was going to wreak on his system come morning. He attempted to send for his carriage only to be respectfully reminded that he had not brought one, but come on horseback.

[Daniel Rossington (Izzie)]

Neil laughed lightly as Linely almost fell. He leaned against the table for support himself, and laughed at Foxford's next suggestion. "If we're sober enough by tomorrow, my good sir, I will most certainly rejoin you," he said, pointing his finger up in the air. He frowned at it, and then pointed it at Foxford.

He laughed again at Foxford's misfortune, and then offered him a ride home in his own carriage (which he had remembered to bring, thankfully). "Lord Foxford will fetch his horse in the morning," he said loudly to a servant nearby, before grabbing Foxford's arm. "Good evening...morning...to you all, gentleman," he said, attempting to bow, but somehow ended up stumbling into the table.

[Marcus Fairmont (Alexandra)]

Marcus said his goodbyes, managed a cheerful Gaelic sing song with Rossington during the drive home and then loudly entered Fairmont House.

A loudly grumbling stomach urged him downstairs, in the direction of the kitchens. Once there, he proceeded to stagger, kick the kitchen table and sprawl right across it. The cool wood was pleasant against his cheek and it was all the man needed to be coaxed into sleep...

"Oh my Lud!"

A cheerful early kitchen maid dropped ten new apples onto the flagstones at the sight of her handsome master unconcious between the wooden spoon and the tea-towels. After allowing herself one surprised giggle (and just resisting the temptation to take a closer look at her master and/or call Lucy, the scullery maid, for another giggle) she summoned a groggy footman and the marquess was escorted to his own larger and infinitely softer bed. With a contented snort, he passed out once more.

He would not remember this incident in the morning. Lucky man.