The Dancing Mare Inn & Tavern

She reacts to his show of magic with a small smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Offering food? I was offering to share the table with me, not the food. I share food with good friends and brothers, are you either of those to me?" she huffs, "I don't even know your name, little man, so how can we be either as yet? The table is big enough for 5 men to sit comfortably, as I am of a size of 1 man and your are half the size of 1 man, we should fit the table just fine; the offer to share the table still stands or you can go climb up your stool over at the bar whence you came. I just came for the food, the mead, and a sit-me-down. If I make a friend or brother along the way that is an added bonus for me." She leans forward, looks him in the eye with a raised brow, waiting for him to respond to her rudeness.

The barmaid finally worked her way around to their table, wiping sweat from her brow, before offering a shy, apologetic smile, "My apologies, m'dears. What can I get for ye?"

Meanwhile, upstairs, Isolde ran her fingers through the thick tangled mess of auburn atop her head. She peeked up at the remaining gnome, immediately recognizing him from the last week. Oh dear....

Drustan stretched, his hair now fixed. With a grunt, he pulled his clothes back on, adjusting the vest he'd purchased just the day before. "Are you in pain, my lady?" His eyes flickered to her still face-planted form. He would not reveal that he knew her unless she asked, and even then, he would tell no one.

She did not look up, merely shaking her head no into the pillow. She almost smirked, knowing that her definition of soreness was far from his own. Have him break a Clydesdale foal and then let him talk of soreness... she mused to herself! only briefly thinking about how she treated most everyone like a soldier under her command.

She eyes the sweaty barmaid, "Gods, just bring me some mead, stew, and bread." I sure hope she at least washes her hands, but I am sure that is a wasted hope. she mutters to herself, thinking maybe this journey of discovery and enlightenment might have been a big mistake. After all, I have a fiefdom to run and a household to control, what the hells am I doing. Am I wrong? I didn't think so when I left. Surely there will be a sign that this is what I need to do. Please Gods give me a sign.

"So, little man, wilt thou give me your name, age, whence thou came from, and bank account number? Or shall I send thee on thy way with a boot to the head?" Laughing out loud at her own wit, such as it has been hidden all these long years, she has sorely missed it.

He glanced back at her only briefly, barely catching the gestured "no."
"Will you be needing anything? Breakfast? I must admit... I have not been with a human before this. I do not know what they would do under these circumstances."

The barmaid nearly jumped back with the sudden irked tone of the woman, but nodded, "Aye, ma'am. At once." She lifted her skirt a few inches above her feet, and bustled back to the kitchen.

Isolde exhaled, knowing that the offer of breakfast was far too enticing for her to pass up at the moment. She sat up, holding the sheets to her bare body, "Breakfast would be nice. I fear the wine of last night has not left my mind yet."

He nodded to her slowly, unsure of what else to do other than comply, "What would you like? I will bring it to you from the tavern below."

She pushed her hair back, a few loose strands still clinging to the sweat on her brow, "Coffee. Tea, if they don't brew coffee here. I've only found coffee in the dwarven settlements. And some bread."

With no answer forthcoming from the Gnome, Groda looks around the tavern. While she has had little dealings with the Gnomish community, she has heard stories of their light fingers, randiness, and quick wit. Maybe he will come up with some quick wit while he sits at her table, but right now it is not looking so good. She certainly is not looking for "randiness or light fingers" at this time.

Reiley wandered into the tavern, hips swaying, the brown and moss-green cloth tied around her waist dangerously short on her hips. A few men's eyes followed her, though she ignored them, till one brought coin up to the bar, asking to pay for a single night. A snake coiled around her shoulders, though, and he quickly left as Reiley giggled to herself, "Mead, please!"

Drustan stumbled down the stairs in nothing more than a loose kilt, a few coins in his hands. "Cheri," he said, bowing before one of the barmaidens. "Some bread and coffee or tea, if you please?"

The barmaid nodded, catching the coin and hurrying off to get him his coffee.

Reiley sat down with her mead at the bar, watching the patrons with her snake coiled around her shoulders. The red curls of her hair seemed to flow wildly back behind her in a storm of hair and tangles. Her eyes flicked to Drustan, the little gnome she hadn't seen since she was barely fifteen. A slow smirk spread on her face, "You've gotten shorter, I dare say."

His ears twitched, the semi-pointed tips sticking up straight. "Rei, I dare say you have grown into quite the woman." He shot her a wink, walking over climbing onto the bar stool beside her. "What are you doing in the city? Trying to get under my kilt again, are we, mon petite cheri?"

"Oh come now, there can't be anything down there I haven't already played with." she winked, "I'm surprised you recognized me at all."

"I'd know that voice and those eyes anywhere, mon maître." His voice was a bit of a purr, a coy smirk on his lips.

"Oh, hush. You'll make me blush." she patted the side of his cheek, "I'm very different looking from your normal gypsy, you know."

"I know," he said, smiling and offering her another wink, "So what are you doing here?"

"One of our wheels broke, so we're stuck for a few days." she shrugged, drinking from her mead, "What about you? Last I heard, you had gotten in good with a noblewoman who needed something to warm her bed." She winked.

He laughed, "That I did, but it seems I left more than I intended to."

The girl laughed heartily, the snake coiling tighter around her shoulder, "Seems our little Tri left an even littler one in his wake."

He shrugged, those his face flushed, "I forget how easily your people can... be taken by such things."

She ruffled his hair, smiling and shaking her head, "The poor babe. Always left to wonder where his giant cock came from." Her accent was thick on her lips, and the vulgar words flowed without hesitation.

He laughed aloud, "Don't forget the poor thing's height, or his supposed father."

Reiley brushed her hair over her shoulder, leaving her shoulders bare, the roses and thorny vines tattooed in red ink traveling from her collar bone down her arms to a few inches above her elbow, "I think he'll manage if your reputation has any truth to it."