Eleanor’s vision was blurry, her words were slurring to the max, and her heels were beyond killing her feet. Eleanor tried to make her way through the kitchen, tripping over her own feet more than once and giggling at herself every single time. The one good thing about Eleanor when she was drunk: She was funny, and didn’t take everything so seriously. She was a happy drunk, a very happy drunk. It was one of the nice advantages of drinking, besides the hang over. “Silly, El. Silly, silly El..” she slurred and giggled to herself, tripping out the back door and making her way down into the garden. She looked around, not sure where the others were. Her heels started to sink into the grass, so she decided to remove her heels from her feet. As she was doing so, she lost her balance and fell right on her bum in the middle of the garden. Hissing in pain and then giggling it all off, she let out a loud shout. “Whereeeee in the world is Nialler when I need him?!”