"We're not going to bathe you, Your Highness," says Viana, matter-of-factly, and it's as much of a 'no' as Bentley was going to get. She downs the rest of her brother's beer, slamming the empty can down with an empty 'clang' and heads to the bathroom herself, seemingly to wash herself up, however.

Evan smiles, somewhat sympathetically. "I'm sure a night or two won't hurt you too much. Besides, if your breath is bad enough, we'll buy you some mints."