(sorry that this is just short rambling nonsense? also i hope this formats correctly.)

FROM: Bailey, Laura
Subject: Re: (no subject)

I don't think you meant to send this out? Just fyi.

Maybe drink a little slower.

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FROM: zerotimetoplay@gmail.com
TO: Critical Role [group]
Subject: (no subject)

ATTACHMENT: kzzz.wav

fuck. I lov this man. I lov e you all! goodnight

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"-and that's why we've polished off half this bottle of whiskey before we even started recording."

"Not half. Is it half? Oh my god, it's half empty."

"Hey, hey, you're the optimistic one, it's half full."

"In our defense, ladies and gentlemen, this is some high quality stuff. Which is why we're drinking it out of red plastic cups."

"People listen to this show because it's classy, I won't deny them that."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh. Also, for the record, Liam has put his legs over my lap, and his foot is literally on my dick."

"I know, I can tell, you got a lil chub goin'."

"Oh my god, we can't air this."

"Oh, we've said worse!"

"It's never been true before!"

Hysterical giggles, followed by shifting.

"We literally can't put this up. You are so drunk."

"Mmm."

"Are you giving me a hickey? Liam O'Brien is giving me a hickey! What is this, seven minutes in heaven?"

"Your aftershave tastes awful, by the way."

"I want a divorce. I'm gonna gay marry you so I can gay divorce you."

"Mmhm."

A long, shuddering breath. "Jesus Christ. Oh my god, Liam-"

--

"There's another ninety minutes," Matt says.

Marisha rests her head on his shoulder. "Well, no one can blame us if we keep going."