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The call had come early in the morning. Early enough that Aree had just gotten home from another night in the five-inch heels of Lieutenant Tanzanite – and god damn did her feet hurt - but not so early that she was unwilling to dash over to Ursula's apartment without so much as a second of hesitation. The message had been urgent but uninformative, something about needing someone to talk to, but something in Ursula's voice put a rush in Aree's movements. She was not one for friends, but somehow Ursula had lifted Aree's immediate and thorough dislike and replaced it with a startling fondness for the older Lieutenant.

Less than an hour later she stood in front of the apartment door, shifting a large paper bag full of clinking bottles over to one hand as she rapped on the door with the other. In that brown paper bag were all of the essential ingredients for a night of consolatory girl time; booze, chocolate-covered mini doughnuts, and an incredibly terrible romantic comedy.

"Whose a** do I need to kick to make you happy again, Ursula?" She called through the door, a touch of worry in her voice.

If Aree had much of a heart left, the sight of Ursula would have broken it. The beautiful red-head was a mess of tears, her eyes ringed with red from what had to be an overwhelming amount of crying. Or an overwhelming amount of pot. Given the look of it, however, Aree was going to bet on the crying. Her dark browns rose in an expression of sympathy, and she crossed the threshold quickly to wrap the seemingly heartbroken woman in a one-armed hug.

“It's alright,” she said, her free hand rubbing Ursula's back as she kicked the door shut behind her. “Everything's going to be fine, we'll get this sorted out.”

When she finally released her hold on Ursula, Aree shook her head, waving a hand to dismiss the notion that she had been bothered. “You damn well should have left that message,” she said as she withdrew each of the bottles of liquor. Sure, one was probably enough to get the both of them blitzed, but Aree was all about the selection. Go big or get the ******** out of her party.

“Ursula, allow me to introduce you to four men who will never let you down; Jim, Jack, Jose, and of course.. The Captain.” She proudly tapped one black-polished nail on the side of the Captain Morgan's bottle.

“Well, I do have a rollicking social life at 2 am. I like to hit up a few clubs between dance practice and trying to serve the Negaverse. Maybe find a few hot guys to take back home,” Aree shrugged. Her tone was flat, a signature of sarcasm from her dry sense of humor.

“So...” she questioned, carrying the bottles and the paper bag over to the coffee table. She filled each glass a couple of inches, a few shots each, before capping the glass bottle. From the paper bag she produced the essentials of cheering up another girl, or the essentials as they were specified by Google. Two boxes of mini chocolate-covered doughnuts, two pints of Moose Tracks ice cream, and one copy of Ever After, “What happened, anyways?”

Aree wasted no time in filling Ursula's glass again after she'd popped the DvD in. The opening credits rolled while Aree hastily threw back her glass; Ursula wasn't the only one who could use a stiff drink right about then. She took a seat beside Ursula, shoulder-to-shoulder with her friend, and propped her feet up on the coffee table.

“So everytime the stepmother is a b***h, you take a drink,” she began, explaining the rules of the Ever After drinking game, “Everytime the prince does something stupid, you take a drink. Everytime Danielle acts like a stupid t**t, you take a drink.”

They'd be hammered in no time.

“You know what you need to do,” she said, digging through layers of vanilla and chocolate in search of those delicious little peanut butter cups, “Rape him.”

“Hey, it works every time,” Aree spoke around a mouthful of moose tracks. With her glass empty, she simply snatched the bottle from the table and took a swig as the stepmother made some bitchy comment in the opening scene, and another as she did it again no less than five seconds later. She passed the bottle off to Ursula. “That's what I plan on doing to Ob- Aaaaah.. a boy. When I get my hands on him.”

Nice backpedaling, Aree. Very nice.

“Men are thick, stupid things,” she gestured with her spoon, “You have to spell it out, right across your chest. I-W-A-N-T-Y-O-U.” With each letter, Aree poked her own chest with the spoon, giving a brief nod at the end.

“God damnt that woman is a b***h,” she muttered at the TV, snatching a doughnut from the box.

Aree was not one to back down. Not from a fight, and certainly not from a game of Truth or Dare. Even if she could feel the five or so shots she'd taken in the span of thirty minutes taking hold of her brain. Being a seventeen year old who spent nearly all of her time dancing or chasing costumed brats around the city came with the severe disadvantage of an exceptionally low alcohol tolerance. She eyed her friend sideways, her lips closed around another spoonful of icecream.

“Dare,” she said promptly. A smug smile curled her lips, thinking she'd outsmarted Ursula's little scheme.

“I- wha- that's no-” Aree fumbled over her words, surprise evident on her face. Normally, she would have seen something like that coming. Normally she would have found some way to distract Nea from her prying. Normally, though, she wasn't drinking alcohol like some long-time AA veteran.

Aree gave a resigned sigh, holding up a finger as if to ask for a moment while she grabbed the bottle. Tipping ti back, she took a few long, burning gulps, before setting it back on the table. After that one, well, in fifteen minutes she probably wouldn't care.

“Obsidian,” she said as quietly as possible, sinking as far into the couch as she could make herself, “Truth or Dare, Ursula.”

Aree didn't even have to think about what to ask, though she did have to focus quite a bit in order to get the words to come out right. Sitting up, Aree snatched another spoonful of ice cream, pretending to think about the question for a moment. There was only one question, of course; the man at the center of their little meeting. The one responsible for their newfound friendship.

“Tell me,” she paused, tapping the spoon against her lips, “Who is this mystery man that has your heart all aflutter, Ursula?”