Seeking a bit of peace and quiet to sip at her singular cup of mystery punch and smoke an herbal cigarette, Arwen has wandered out to the outfield, her eyes straying skyward as she takes a slow drink. She's not far enough in that she's feeling it, but she's sure she will soon - her tolerance is shot. But the evening feels calm, despite the potential impending disaster, and for once she's not horribly worried about it.
THE OUTFIELD: Beck & Arwen
"Christ," she exhales slowly.