Not an accusation as much as a statement of hard fact, Sif had no response but a shrug. "Not quite as drunk as you think, I feel. I am, after all, still sitting, my hair is in place, I haven't violently foregone the lower part of my dress for the leggings underneath and I haven't punched anyone. Not even you!" She said, eyes wide as if it was the wonder of wonders. She waved the bottle in her hand. Halfway gone already. This drink was weak. "But yes, quite a bit."

There was a warmth to Loki that she had struggled to find before, outside of fleeting moments that had almost seemed completely imagined. His eyes were bright with the colors of the fireworks above, and even if they weren't Sif could swear they were more alight than usual. Less heavy with whatever tended to trouble him so.

It was a split-second reaction, not the kind Sif tended to have; it was uncharacteristically thoughtless, one might even say instinctive. When he moved closer and placed one hand upon her cheek Sif covered his with her own, and moved exactly in the direction that Loki did. Instead of finding Loki's cheek she found his lips and, against all odds, did not pull back immediately as if an electrical shock had occurred. While in the very distant recesses of her mind something was screaming, Sif paid it no mind, focusing instead on making that soft kiss count. It lasted only a moment, after which Sif turned only slightly away. "Happy New Year."

Well now she was definitely going to need the rest of that bottle, and the second one. Perhaps more. All of them.