Like Praying.

Charlotte held a flask of spirits with both of her hands, cupping it like something sacred. John's face produced a smile seeing his friend like this, she looks like she's praying when she drinks, he thought. She let out a long sigh as she crawled into a crouch on the large rock they sat on. Her hair spilled in curls around her face. John turned his gaze towards the water.
"Fay got married yesterday." She looked up at John through her curtain of hair.
John didn't flinch nor give any indication that he heard. He continued to gaze ahead, into the roaring river, still leaning on one elbow for support.
"Hpmh, she married that traveling salesman. Said he was her chariot, or something." Charlotte blinked and began to trace her right pinkie finger around the tip of the flask.
"Good," he said, finally, softly, not breaking his gaze, "she made this town stink like something rotten."
Charlotte raised the flask with one hand, "cheers John, you bastard."
She threw the flask back and the liquid began to spill into her mouth, her lips moistened around the opening, heavy gulps followed, sliding down her throat. She lowered the flask and held it with both hands, again, like praying. Her head fell back, her hair parted, her throat exposed; she sighed with satisfaction as the spirits penetrated her stomach.
John smiled and patted the empty space next to him.
"Amen," she whispered as she crawled next to John, tucking her face in his shoulder where she grinned the happiest of grins.