She shrugs, one-shouldered, following his gaze briefly - there's a little dancing going on, but for the most part, people are mingling and drinking and it's almost low-key, as evenings they go. "Some of them, like they used to be - I used to go to a place just like this, at home, when I had a fake." ID, she means, and it turns out that she's a bit less taciturn and a little more animated when there's alcohol in her system; Ilde's a bit of a chatty drunk.

She's also baby-faced at twenty-one, so one can only imagine how she managed passing a fake ID for the short time she had one.

"When we still had bars," she adds, saluting him with her glass. "Tavern is archaic. You're archaic." Your face is archaic, Boromir- no, she's friendly, still, just tipsy and blunt.