She's leaning over the rail in the muggy air, looking down at the lights of the capital city far below receding into the darkness of the surrounding jungle. The newlyweds are alone with the stars overhead and the distant screech of a swamp avian.

Isplourrdacartha glances over her shoulder and accepts her cup from him, holding it so that he can pour. Her eyes follow the bottle. "Whiskey?" she laughs. "I was thinking more along the lines of champagne or wine, but whiskey will do." Her mirth tempers to a smile. "I love it," she says, as she looks outward (it will be her city, one day). "I can't believe how beautiful it is."