I've no intention of sulking, Ladybird. [It would be easy to turn to one, though. A new year should be a celebration, but why celebrate another year stuck in this place? He lets go of her, a little abruptly, scooping up the bottle of whiskey and turning, neatly, to hop up onto the ledge.]

How can I sulk, hm? A clear night, fireworks on the way. [He pours out another finger or two of whiskey into the glass, then gives a tip of the bottle in her direction, a tilted smile.] Beautiful company.