Purged. [Maketh frowns down at the table. Yep, she's certainly drunk now, feeling light and almost fuzzy but also anxious suddenly, wanting to move. This hasn't gone as planned. Chris isn't like her, he's not an Imperial, and the regular tricks haven't worked. He's still talking. Still unfortunately sober.] Or burned. There was a war.

[There have been a lot of wars. Maketh wonders if she'd like the simplicity of that, instead of...whatever she'd helped impose in the aftermath. It hadn't been peace.

Her hands are shaking. Maketh puts them under the table.] Established fixed data points. Markers. Then the phones can ping off them. Does that make sense?

[She's not talking too fast, is she? Maketh fights the urge to run a hand through her hair again. She wants to move. Usually when she's this drunk she goes dancing, but never with someone she knows and not like this.]