Ainsley takes a long breath, trying to clear her mind before things can get worse. She's drinking champagne and the bubbles are interfering with her calm, she thinks, and she should find her own room. It's the best idea. "I should go," she says. "Sam, I should go," she says, a bit firmer now that she repeats it. "I still haven't found my room yet, and you're enjoying that champagne and I'd hate to force you to get up again."