"I was trying to catch up with you," Jyn grouses, reaching over to take her drink back. Now she is double fisting drinks and she had been avoiding that but whatever maybe it will make this shit life bearable.

"Does she have a name?" Jyn used to name the cows. Spot and Splotch and Blot and Smudge and Fleck. Buddy.

Jyn is going to offer these names, as a way to distract Cassian from the fact that she has both drinks, setting one out of his reach unless he stretches all across her which she know he won't, until one of the victors passes alongside their couch and Jyn feels her stomach bottom out. The victor is clutching a toddler in her arms, another clinging to her dress, as she hurries across the room.

Jyn, stricken, downs the rest of her (his) drink and reaches out to take his hand, snatching it up. "Come on. Let's get out of here." Hopefully in the opposite direction.