"Aye, that would be a vera important goal.  Nae getting nicked for bad drunk behavior."  He chuckled.  He gave an expression of enjoyment as he took another bite of the tart.  "This is vera good.  The cook 'as a good 'and with the desserts."  He added finishing chewing and swallowed. 

"Sae, what kind of whiskey dae yu 'ave in yur' collection?" He asked thinking he was glad he had told his valet that he would be late.

"I'll tell her..." Tristan said, because pretending that his maid had actually cooked the meal was less awkward than admitting that he had hired a young lady from a good family who through personal tragedy had become a penniless and had now turned maid even though she had never even heard of a copper before. Yeah, that would be awkward. Not to mention the fact that the little green monster didn't allow him to draw Douglas' attention to said pretty maid.

"Let me get them so you can see," he told his new friend, and he went to the drawing room to collect the four bottles of whiskey he had bought. It was easier than to tell the Earl which ones he had, for in all fairness, he had already forgotten what he had bought. He had trusted the salesman's judgement too, and the random assortment and the fact that the bottles hadn't been opened would probably expose him pretty soon as someone desperate to impress a new friend with a 'whiskey collection' that hadn't actually existed when he had announced it.

When he returned to the room, he sheepishly placed the four bottles of mediocre whiskey on the table for the Scotsman's inspection. Then he stepped back and folded his hands behind his back like a student nervous for his teacher's evaluation.

Douglas had finished his meal when Tristan came back with the bottles.  He got up and moved over to look at the bottles more closely and realized they were brand new bottles and not of the top shelf type.  Though he didn't want to embarrass his friend who seemed to not be at ease about them.  Instead of giving a critique of them, he nodded.  "Oh, these will definitely get us drunk."  He smiled at the other man.  "I suggest this one to start."  He indicated the best of the bottles.  The drunker they got the less the taste would matter. 

"Shall I open it and you get a couple of glasses?"  He suggested reaching for the bottle if he should agree.

Tristan let out a short laugh, partly out of relief. He visibly relaxed. "Well, I should hope so."

Should he? Wasn't Tristan against drunkenness? He seemed to have forgotten all about that as a result of several glasses of wine and the eagerness and hope of a budding friendship.

"If you're done eating, why don't we take 'em back into the sitting room. Or you can bring your plate, if you aren't choosy about such things. Seems smart to make our way there while we still can." He gave the Earl a convivial wink.

Waving a large calloused hand toward the empty plate.  "All good there.  Definitely should go to a more relaxing setting for drinking and visiting."  He agreed to pause in the action to open one of the bottles.  He picked up two of the bottles and left the other two for Tristan to pick up and then he would follow the doctor to the sitting room.  His valet would no doubt come back by with the carriage around 11 pm but if Douglas wasn't ready to leave yet at that time, would sit outside to wait, so Douglas was not worried about how late the evening lasted.

As Tristan carried the other two bottles back, the floor seemed annoyingly unsteady and the walls seemed to spin. He had definitely had more wine than his inexperienced system was used to. Drinking whiskey on top of that was a terrible idea. He knew that. He knew that! But it was all the more reason to do so anyway. In his already tipsy mind, it made him feel rebellious and he wanted to show off, like he was ten years younger and back at university.

He set the bottles down on the saloon table and dropped down into an armchair, but jumped up almost instantly. "Oh! Glasses!" Where were they? He could ask Pippa but he preferred to leave her alone for the rest of the evening. Oh right! "One moment!" He made his way over to the dining room once more, opened a cupboard, rummaged though, dropped a glass, which scattered on the floor, cursed, and finally returned to Douglas, holding up two low, wide glasses victoriously. "Found them!" As if finding something in his own home was a great accomplishment.

He handed Douglas one glass and sat down again. "Please help yourself. I don't want to be accused of getting you drunk, should we get arrested tonight," he joked.

Douglas had already sat the bottles down and gotten himself settled on one of the chairs.  He took off his jacket not figuring his friend would mind if he relaxed.  They likely were going to be very drunk and he was already warmly liquided up.  He had heard the crash somewhere in the other part of the house.  He glanced that direction but it sounded small enough to be not a big issue.  The other man was a doctor after all and if he needed help would call out for it.

When Tristan returned with the glasses, Douglas grinned.  "Success!"  He leaned forward and took one of the glasses.  Laughing, he nodded.  "Oh nae, it will be my own 'and pouring it down my own head."  He opened the better of the four and poured a liberal amount into his own glass and took a swig.  His face indicated the burn of the liquid as he swallowed.  "That it is."  He had drunk worse and better, but it was wet and strong.  That was good enough for the evening.

Tristan glanced shortly at Douglas' exposed sleeves. But he didn't mind the informality at all - rather took it as a sign that his new friend was comfortable in his home, something that gave him no small amount of satisfaction - and Tristan removed his own jacket and cast it over the back of his chair. Then he poured himself a glass of whiskey and sipped some.

He tried not to cough and get all teary-eyed when the alcohol hit his throat. Though he had drunk his share back in university, he was entirely unaccustomed to the burning sensation now. A small cough escaped his lips after he swallowed. "It's been a while," he admitted with a sheepish chuckle. Then he raised his glass. "To Scotland."

Douglas chuckled, in a friendly manner.  Then raising his glass, he responded to the toast.  "Aye, tae Scotland!"  He tossed down the liquid and realized he should likely not go quite that fast.  There had been quite a lot of wine with dinner.  He sat the glass down and poured some more, but didn't pick it back up at first.

"So, when you say it's been a while, how long ago would that be?"  He grinned.

Tristan chuckled. "Well, I drink some occasionally, but back at the asylum, with all my responsibilities there, I just couldn't afford a hangover. So I'd say the last time I got... well, you know... pissed," he smirked at his own vulgar language - they seemed to have reached the stage of drunkenness and informality where that was acceptable, if not required - "was back in university. After exams we would go into the city and drink properly, and once we weren't welcome in the pubs anymore we'd take bottles up The Mound or up Carlton Hill and drink there, until the constables would chase us." He laughed at the memory. "I'd almost forgotten we were so wild."