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"YOU KNOW IN ITALY, children have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France." Dale had smirked, raising his glass.
"Well, when Carl is in Italy or France, he can have some then."
Rick, stretched his lips into a playful smile, shrugging his shoulders as he asked, "what's it gonna hurt? Come on."
Lori raised her brows at her tipsy husband, about to respond when Ophelia interrupted her speech. "A little bit of wine won't hurt him. I could down a whole bottle by the time I was his age."
" - Not that he should do that." The woman added, clearing her throat awkwardly.
The whole group had been dining together for the last hour, feasting on rich foods and wines of which the apocalypse had so cruelly stolen from them. Many of them were tipsy, hyper by the mere prospect of alcohol lingering on their lips again. Even Ophelia had been talkative, and had taken part in many conversations, as did Daryl.
When Lori eventually gave in, Dale had proceeded to pour the young boy a small glass of wine, smiling "there you are, young lad. "
Everyone watched in both curiosity and amusement as Carl took a sip of the beverage. The moment the sweet liqueur touched his lip, he scrunched his face up in disgust, of which the group found rather amusing.
"Eww. Yuck. That tastes nasty."
"That's my boy. Good boy." Lori phrased her son, ruffling his hair with her hand. Everyone else had giggled, not only drunk of alcohol, but drunk from the fantasy they were temporarily living in.
Shane too had found it amusing. "Well, just stick to sour pop there, bud."
"Not you, Glenn." Daryl had smirked, grasping his alcohol bottle tightly within his hand. "Keep drinkin', little man. I want to see how red your face can get."
Everyone had laughed at his comment - it was not often he made jokes or amused others, so they made the most of the tipsy Daryl of which they had been blessed with for the evening.
Ophelia, who was sat at the edge of the table, extended out her arm and gestured for the red neck to re fill her now empty glass. Once he had filled it, she gulped it down very quickly, baring the burning sensation within her throat. Luckily she had the natural ability to be considered an extreme heavy weight, so becoming drunk was a worry she had not.
"Wait, so, how old are you Ophelia? I mean, if you don't mind me asking." Lori had asked.
Ophelia had contemplated on an answer before responding, "thirty something."
