That sets him off again, shoulders shaking with mirth for a short span of low giggles.

"Worse than that," he rasps with a grin, shoving Joshua back a step with an eye on his steadiness. Dion bends for the wine bottle and tops himself up. "We will wake covered in dirt, with splitting headaches and no recollection of how we came to be that way."

Dion toasts nothing at all then plops back down on the bench with yet remarkable grace. He locates Joshua's cup to refill it, then offers it back out to him with a challenge in his eyes. "Come, Your Grace. Freedom awaits."