"Drunk Isobel", it turned out, looked like a fucking Barbarian.
Things started out pretty tame. We went to the nearby tavern, which Lyra and I were regulars at, and introduced Isobel as our Advisor. Glasses were raised in celebration of House May, half-joking inquiries were made about whether we were taking on recruits–a good sign even though we weren't at that stage yet–, and free rounds paid for by the barkeep.
That was what kicked it off. The barkeep made the unfortunate mistake of giving out free cups of stout. Isobel didn't like stout, but she also didn't like being wasteful. So, she decided to mix it with a cup of wine that Lyra had forgotten about to see if she'd like it like that.
Isobel liked that drink. She liked that drink a lot. So, she ordered another. And another. And another.
