Yes

Anne clears her throat. "Well, thank you, Mr. Twilwell. I shall...indeed." She takes the flask from him quickly and takes a hurried sip, glancing around to make sure she's not seen. Drinking at a funeral! What she will do, apparently, for the right man... As the liquid hits her throat, coughs slightly and has to put a hand up to her mouth to stifle the sound. She passes Twilwell's flask back to him, and he grins slightly, entertained by her nervousness.

"My thanks, Miss Foxhaven. You've made me feel remarkably less alone," he says. "First time trying whiskey?"

"Indeed," she whispers hoarsely. She can feel it burning her throat and her insides, but she smiles at him, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. "Whatever I can do to help you relax, sir."

"Well, I don't know if I'd go quite that far," Mr. Twilwell says with a little chuckle. It takes Anne a second to catch on, then she gasps.

"Mr. Twilwell!" she exclaims. Partly to her own surprise, she giggles. As he grins, she can't help but giggle harder and more loudly, covering her mouth with her hand in an attempt to conceal her hilarity from the other attendees of this...well, this funeral reception! It's supposed to be a place of mourning! Getting herself under control as people glance at her curiously, she clears her throat. "You are most impertinent, Mr. Twilwell," she says quietly.

"Well, I was always told that when I was growing up," he comments, eyes sparkling. "Still, you must admit you left an opening."

"One a gentleman of your caliber ought rightly to ignore," Anne says. She's feeling pleasantly warm - that whiskey is nice, isn't it? She should figure out where she can procure some more. "In any case, I feel I must ask: did you even know poor old Mr. Tines?"

"I am forced to admit that I did not," Mr. Twilwell says. "Though I've heard nothing but good about him."

Anne nods. "Yes, he was rather a good man. Loyal to the parsonage and, all things considered, a gentle, humble man of God."

"Ah, that's all to the good," Mr. Twilwell murmurs. "I must confess my church attendance here has not been what it should...I was too busy getting my house in order. And then, well, if I'm honest my church attendance has never been the best."

"Oh?" Anne asks. Twilwell chuckles.

"Oh no. You see, as a child I always grew dreadfully bored in church...I used to sneak in biscuits to snack on, and I started a small sort of business selling them to the other little boys and girls there. Honestly, the margins of the church became my first enterprise! I made a pretty good profit, too."

"Mr. Twilwell!" Anne laughs out loud, charmed by the idea of a young Twilwell selling cookies to his peers. Twilwell grins.

"It's true!" he protests. Something about his own amusement at himself just makes Anne laugh the harder, and somewhere in the back of her hazy mind she's aware that she's being rather improper for the setting. People are starting to look her way, and murmur to their companions about the impropriety of the girl. Twilwell, however, is beaming, and that is all that matters to her right now. Her heart swells as she gets her laughter under control and makes eye contact with him, blushing slightly as she smiles back at him.

"I must say, Miss Foxhaven, you have a most charming laugh," Twilwell says quietly.

"Thank you," Anne whispers, blushing harder.

"I hope to have occasion to hear it again often," Twilwell says. He {if Twilwell-Anne > 25}reaches forward and squeezes her hand affectionately, {else}smiles at her and gives her a formal little nod (then a more playful wink), {endif}and moves off to speak with another guest, letting Anne catch her breath. She's still a tad unsteady on her feet, but her heart is racing. What a delight to have charmed him so! Now she just needs to...sit down somewhere. Just for a moment.

In another corner of the parlor, Rebecca finally tracks Alice down. "There you are," she says tartly. "You missed the introduction to our baby-faced new parson. What on earth are you doing over here?"

"Watching the men," Alice says with a little giggle. "They all look so serious in their big black coats - like a flock of crows. It's quite ludicrous."

Rebecca sighs. "I know I wish Anne would think more of such things, but sometimes I worry you think of them too much, Alice," she grumbles. "Come, you're missing all the conversations."

"Ooooh, look!" Alice says suddenly, nudging her sister. "{if Simmons-Alice > 0}It's that handsome Captain Simmons in dress uniform!{else}It's that captain in his dress uniform!{endif} My, isn't that fine..."

"It is, but don't stare; I think he's coming over here," Rebecca mutters, tugging on Alice's arm to make it somewhat less obvious where her sister is looking.

The soberly clad Captain approaches them and gives them both a nod. "{if Simmons-Alice > 0}I'm very pleased to see you again, Miss Foxhaven - and you, Miss Foxhaven. I've thought of you since our last encounter."

"Why Captain! How very kind," Alice says with a little giggle.

{else}I believe I saw you both at the Bellingtons' party, but I didn't get the chance to introduce myself as I'd hoped. Captain Simmons, William Simmons, of the local infantry."

The girls offer him brief curtsies. "I'm Rebecca Foxhaven, and this is my sister, Alice," Rebecca says smoothly. "I'm happy to meet you, albeit under such regrettable circumstances."

"{if Simmons-Peggy > 0}Foxhaven? Ah, I believe I met your sister Peggy at the ball! {endif}Delighted." The Captain smiles at them both.{endif} "I must admit that I find the atmosphere in this parlor rather...claustrophobic. Seeing you two ladies temporarily unescorted, I wondered if you might do me the honor of taking a turn about the parsonage grounds with me?"

Rebecca hesitates. On the one hand, she doesn't find this military man particularly interesting{if Simmons-Alice > 0}, and it seems like his invitation is likely directed most at Alice{endif}. On the other, it might be best not to leave Alice, with her love of uniforms, unescorted with this man...more due to her foolishness than any threat from him.