Reagan cheered with delight when Alissa--gag--handed Charlie the rum. Following him to the kitchen, which was a lot harder than it should be, she leaned on the counter and waited for him to pour the drinks to everyone. She allowed herself one night every once in awhile to indulge, and tonight was one of those nights. She generally hated anything that would make her unsteady, since she valued her life and she wanted to live it in her parents honor, but with the stress of the murder being so high and always having to be on lockdown she felt it was in her right to get completely wasted and not have to feel bad about it.
"I for sure am," Reagan said, grabbing a plastic cup from Charlie's hand. She waited for him to pour and while she did she checked her phone. As expected, Sarah had sent her a couple messages with more warnings about being safe. She rolled her eyes and deleted them all, not caring one bit. She had finally talked them into letting her get an actual phone--a flip phone, but still--instead of the disposables that she had to switch out every week. It had taken her a couple months, but at last they deemed it safe enough. Besides, it had been getting harder and harder to hide the excess of disposables that were in her possession and having to explain why her number was always changing. There were only so many times you could cry water damage before people started to get suspicious.
She knocked back her drink, downing the whole glass, and raised her hand for more. "Damn, that burns! Sorry, I wanted to start the night off strong," she smiled guiltily, letting out a little laugh. She welcomed the buzz into her head and sighed. She was in no means a lightweight, but she did admit to being buzzed very quickly. Of course, downing a cup of rum and coke tended to do that, but who was really judging? They were all there to let loose and have a little fun. What was the big deal?