45th Spring, 511 A.V. "Buy you another drink?" Perras asked, clapping Sitkanis on the burly shoulder. Syna still shone outside, so the Ethaefal looked more human, which didn't put the Denvali soldier off so much as the pretty boy with horns thing. He intended a long evening of drinking with the fellow survivor of the trip down into the mines seasons past, and he was trying to remember all the bawdy jokes he intended to tell to the barmaids when his friend grew -- literally -- horny. With luck, Zagary or some of the other guildsmen would find them and hijinks would ensue. But for now, they laid the foundation for future drunkenness. If Adalia got mad, well, they would cover for Sitkanis. Perfect gentleman, he. There was a flower pinned to his chest. There would be no proper mallow until summer, but the flower and what it stood for allowed him much more social leeway than others were given, and most were given quite a bit in Denval so long as they didn't break any of the hard and fast rules that kept them all alive and healthy. |