A boy named Sous

Whoa. Dinah stared for a moment, then looked around the Pillow Suite, and back to Priestly, swallowing. Gulp.

"She's sexing up the pastry chef? That guy's a schmuck!" Yeah, you could tell Dinah was a little tipsy by the lack of filter there. "That bitch, I knew I hated her for a reason... I mean. I'm sorry, Priestly." Awww. Awwwwwwwww! That really sounded like the first shot fired in filing for divorce. She slid off the stool and reached toward him, petting his arm. "Are you okay?"

Fun fact: vicarious intoxication was something Dinah hadn't experienced for over twenty years. So she'd kind of forgotten that side effect of her touch telepathy, and leaving her barriers down.