There was a foggy haze settling warmly over Jax, sweeping into his center, making things pleasantly swirl around him as his eyes got heavy and his tongue thick. He had not slurred yet and thank the stars it was her smooth sound washing over him. She spoke better than any treat given at that fancy garden party. When she put the book down Jax tried harder to focus.

Cats? This was a story of pussy? No, no Jax pulled himself from the blurs. Kittens. She was giving him something here and he could tell it was important. He was drunk enough he wasn’t sure what she was really talking about. A story of a kitten who wished to fly. No, no, Jax felt the realization hit him. It was a story of a love once so strong the ability for those wings were given. Then when they were ripped away, when needed most, that love was tossed aside. 

Jax knew something about that. Well, not kittens really. But as a boy he had more than once latched onto a man he pretended was his father. He shadowed a few. Pretended a lot. Took all he could from each, reading, navigating, and more, only to be tossed aside. They were not his father, he had heard a few times. Why couldn’t they pretend? The beginning of Jax’s love for stories.

Jax turned to Nicki as she slurred and he smiled. He lifted yet another bottle, how many had they emptied? “To cats who fly. A sight to see.” He grinned. “A true sight to see.” His blurry eyes slipped in his real appreciation of that view. He took another swing. He leaned his head toward her and licked his lips, “I have learned not to trust any man..opps.” He drunkenly chuckled, “..person, woman or man, who has not longed to fly. Small mind, “ He tapped his head with one finger, or at least attempted to. “that does not wish to leave the ground, for sea or air.” He paused. “But it takes balls to really do it.” He smiled realizing beautiful smart wondrous sounding Nicki had shown him her balls. 

Stumbling Jax pushed himself up. He wanted to stand. He lifted his chin and loud and clear, no slur at all he almost sang his words.

"To booze and books and balls!
I raise my glass to all.
Through all the melodies of sweet sweet lines
Through slurs of drunken grasping rhythms
Through stories filled with painful signs
Through company so very fine
I do not remember a better time
Than the challenge of that wondrous call 
Of booze and books and balls!" 

As soon as he finished Jas stood tall for a second like a sail that had caught the wind. Then as in those rare cases where the sea quickly settles calm, his sail emptied and was pulled to the rail, as Jax just fell over. He hadn’t slurred. He just passed right out.