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"Hey, Tempest, wanna split a drink with me? Expositor Lionett is working the bar, and let's just say those weren't halfling sized pours."
Keyleth turned to find Orym perched on a barstool at her side, gesturing with a Tiki mug that was almost the size of his head.
"Trying to keep your wits about you?"
Orym laughed. "For now. It's still early."
Keyleth took the offered mug, druidcrafting a short length of reed and dropping it in besides Orym's straw.
"Gods, you're not kidding," Keyleth coughed, thumping her chest. Orym gave her a wry smile.
"The expositor doesn't fuck around."
They sat in silence for a while, passing the mug back and forth and taking in the goings on of the after party. More and more couples drifted their way onto the dance floor—the newlyweds, of course. The expositor and her wife. Essek and his partner. Keyleth met the eyes of Essek's brother across the dance floor, returning his tentative wave. Had he come alone? Maybe she could ask him to dance later.
The dance floor briefly descended into chaos when it came time for Mrs. Lavorre-Stone to toss the bouquet. Some obvious winks were sent in Essek and Caleb's direction before she turned her back on the crowd, but the wizards seemed to have no interest in vying for the bouquet. Instead, the minotaur—Braius, was it?—and a tattooed dwarf in a leather bustier both lunged for the flowers, throwing elbows and stomping with heeled boots. Their attempts at sabotage led to the bouquet being knocked aside, landing squarely in the lap of a pink haired firbolg. He looked down at the flowers and smiled.
"Well, isn't that nice?"
Keyleth and Orym shared a glance and found neither could hold back their laughter, snickering behind their hands and Orym briefly hiding his face in Keyleth's shoulder. When they got themselves under control again, Orym shook his head with a good natured sigh, returning to his people watching. Keyleth found herself watching Orym, unable to contain her fond smile.
Orym noticed, of course. He lowered the Tiki mug. "Something on your mind, Tempest?"
"Just thinking about the last time I attended a big wedding," Keyleth said. "It was years ago—the de Rolos had eloped but wanted to have a ceremony, so all of—most of Vox Machina attended, and. Derrig was my plus one," she said softly. "Partly for security, but also it was nice to have someone from home with me, you know? Of course he was so quiet and reserved, and he didn't really know anyone at the wedding so he stuck by me the whole night—which I guess he'd do anyway, since it was kinda his job, you know?
"Anyway," Keyleth laughed. "You just reminded me of him, is all."
Orym gave her a small smile, stirring the dregs of their drink. "You know, Derrig was also at the last wedding I attended, now that I think about it."
"Bit of a bigger role than a bodyguard," Keyleth gently teased. "He'd be very proud of you," she added. "Both of them."
"I'm glad you think so," Orym laughed. "I wonder, sometimes."
"You know what I wonder sometimes?" Keyleth asked. "If we can expect another wedding in Zephrah any time soon." She nodded across the dance floor to another handsome, long haired man—looking to catch not her eye, but Orym's. Keyleth's heart warmed at the slow smile that crept across Orym's face.
"Well, we're taking it slow. But maybe someday."
"I have all the time in the world."