[Truth be told, she's a lightweight and has no business making fun of Jon. (He could drink her under the table, and for all she knows, so could Daenerys,) In Anatole she once got so drunk of sake she puked into a potted plant, but she can't help at laugh at the idea of it - Jon well in his cups, the image of Prompto helping her stumbling brother into his room, and the mock wounded look on his face - it's too much. She's laughing again.]

It's not a waste is it stays down. And it's no time for a turned stomach. There's too much food to be had that isn't crickets. All this meat. Maelys the Monstrous could have seven heads and still manage to stuff them all several times over.

[She wonders at the prospect of taking some ...to go at the eve's end: if there's any left, but says instead (and it's no less an honest thought):]

The both of you look very cool in your party vestments. Have you been ...merry thus far? It's a welcome change, truly.