So the wolf would like to curse this enterprise. Sasha taps her foot four times. She doesn't dare try to include Seyli, now.

Sasha almost wishes Ashari had taken her up on the ribbons; the only thing worse than being hopelessly obligated to someone is being hopelessly obligated to someone who won't acknowledge the connection. Though, practically speaking, braiding her hair in its current state would have been a project. "To a new leader." Same as the old leader, but with a longer leash. And a longer way to fall.

Sasha picks up her shot and clinks it against Ashari's glass, with considerable force. Ashari poured generously, but the vodka shudders under surface tension, rather than spilling. Sasha knocks back the shot.