Erin clings to Daisy while she drinks; there's a desperate greed to it, an eagerness to stay up, to stay awake, yes, but also the pleasure of obeying, of being in Daisy's power entirely. When she comes up for air there's only the dregs of the glass left, her cocktail mixing in with the blood on her lips, chest heaving as she takes deep breaths.

On impulse, Erin pulls herself closer and buries her face in Daisy's neck, biting in turn; not an attack, but a gentle press, a mark with those sharp teeth. Mine. My sovereign. My love.