Drink Till it Hurts

It's a beautiful spring day outside the bar, which possibly explains why it's not terribly busy inside. There's a few drunks who are fast asleep at their tables, and one man at the bar who looks like he's trying to get there. He's a dark-haired man, large framed, and wearing more armor than you usually see in a bar. There's a massive blade sitting beside him, leaning against the bar as he drinks down his whiskey and orders up another round.

There's a Sunguard, armor and all, who strides into the bar, looking around the place with a steel-gray gaze that stops on every passed-out drunk in the bar. "Damn," she mutters to herself. "Barely a few hours after noon and some folks are already /that/ deep on their cups, huh."

She walks up to the bar and orders a light ale, sitting close to the armored man. "How long have they all been like that?" she asks him. "Least I can do is make sure they're not gonna drown on their own upchuck."

Mikilos appears. Which isn't all that unusual for a wizard to do, but with the teleportation ban upon the city, either he's insanely powerful, has a sneaky loophole, or it was just an invisibility spell. Which also says something when turning invisible is 'just' a minor thing. "Maybe they just have a low tolerance?" The wizard seems more interested in the massive blade, though it's to the man behind the bar he speaks. "Spiced cider, whatever stew is ready, and a loaf of bread, if you will please."

Lysos appears. In the door. She's not that powerful of a wizard. She's replaced her cloak, this one a rather simple affair, though she carries it folded and draped on an arm rather than worn upon her shoulders. Day's a little warm for that, though with how much it's rained recently, it's seems she wishes to be prepared.

After giving her eyes a moment to adjust coming in from the brightness of outside, she further pauses when she sees the general state of many in the pub. But then she shrugs; it's quite possible she might be one of them in soon enough time, though she keeps telling herself that she won't let it get that far. So she walks towards the bar as well.

Verna enters the establishment via the main ingress thoroughly visible, tangible and via wholly mundane locomotion. Her feet, presumably, though the long robes conceal any ready view of them and/or footwear. She doffs her cloak hood once within and takes a moment to debate between a table or a spot at the bar.

Another round appears for the man at the bar, and he accepts it. Even offering a nod to the barkeep before turning his attention to Andelena beside him. She gets a weighing look that seems somehow disapproving, and he shakes his head. "Don't rightly care unless they're dying." He says coldly, not even bothering to look around the bar. He seems generally aware of it though, which is pretty impressive if how quickly he's going through his whiskey is any indication of how much he's had to drink.

Mikilos' appearance grants him a bit of a look as well, and the man pulls his blade a little closer to himself. "Might be so." He replies to the other man's words. "I'm still standing after all." Or sitting.

Mikilos waves vaguely, either assuring or dismissive. "Interesting weapon, where was it forged?" The elf sounds genuinely curious. He frowns mildly, glancing from the bar to a nearby table. One means joining, but is worse for conversation, the other more inclusive, but already has a passed out drunk.

"I mean, you might not care, but sort of my job to, bud," Andelena replies, casting a concerned glance at the drunkards again.

Once she's assessed briefly that none of them are actively in danger, she just shrugs and knocks back her drink. "Seems like they're probably fine. Anyway--"

She looks over at Lysos and Mikilos. She waves to Lysos with a friendly gesture, but she looks at Mikilos with a broad, broad look up and down.

"Pardon my language, but I think you're the tallest fucking elf I've ever seen," Andelena says, eyebrows up to her forehead as she's mildly awed.

Verna decides, in the end, to move to the bar. It is only then that she recognizes several familiar individuals. "Good day to you all," is offered as she stands at the bar rather than seeking the immediately adjacent stool. She may not be intent to join those waist-deep in their cups... or such only requires one cup. That she provides some scale against Mikilos only further substantiates Adelena's comment.

"Maelstrom." Replies the unnamed man at the bar, seemingly in reply to Mikilos' question. He shrugs at Andelena's comment, at least until she remarks on Mikilos' height and then he's choking on his drink. Coughing several times the man finally lets out a low dark chuckle. "You don't mince words do you?"

Mikilos quirks an amused brow at Adelena's description. "Well not at the moment, maybe after a few drinks. Though most of my family are above average." Making his choice, the wizard drops into a table seat, half turned to face the bar.

Andelena flashes the man a smirk. "Yeah, I don't," she says. "People get put off by that--but just because I'm a holy woman doesn't mean I have to act like I'm better 'n anyone else. Justice for the people--and you don't know how to get them justice if you don't have any ground with 'em. My filthy mouth makes common people trust me, and it gets the rich fucks to shit their pants if they're not doing what they should, so it suits me just fine."

She sets her empty mug back onto the counter. "Name's Andelena," she says, now addressing everyone that she doesn't know. Verna nods to Andelena, with whom she is at least familiar, and noting her comment. "Intriguing. Does the use of vulgar vernacular produce repeated, desired results?" Following that inquiry, with the barkeep momentarily unoccupied, she requests a cup of tea for herself. Her attention then shifts to the large man with the larger blade. "That is an unusual name with a number of connotations."

Lysos blows on her tea a little bit more, then sips from it. Then gulps, before grimacing. Wasn't quite cooled off enough for that. "She's not wrong. You are a really big elf," she notes to Mikilos. "Weirdly so. Though.. I suppose most people in here have something weird about them." She hopes. Easier to be weird when you're not the only one. "Weird people with weird swords."

"It's not that odd a blade." The man shrugs and then nods to Andelena. "I'm Aragos." He drinks down the rest of his whiskey and pushes the glass forward for another refill. One that the bartender is quick to give him. Seems likely that he has paid up already then. Or has shown enough coin to make serving him worthwhile. He eyes Verna and offers her a shrug also. "Guess I'm an unusual sort then. Unusual blade from an unusual place."

Mikilos nods at the introductions. "Mikilostravia Abrioudelanarchie Mithralla, Lord of Estranillia, Archmage of the Ninth Circle, Builder Arcane." He takes a sip of cider and smiles. "Though anything more that 'Mikilos' is just being a pretentious rich fuck." He glaces to Lysos and considers. "Never considered my sword weird, but I guess it is pretty unusual." Himself? Firmly weird.

Andelena does... Well, it's more than a double-take. A triple-take might be more accurate, and she takes a moment to order herself another drink. "You got enough syllables in that name or what? Daeus's blessed fuckin' /light./ When they named you, they pulled out the fuckin' dictionary and said, "Yeah, sure, let's name this poor bastard one of every word here." My /sympathies./"

She gets that drink and knocks back a healthy mouthful, setting the glass down onto the bar. "I thought it could get bad with the names an' shit where I come from, but I guess there's always one bigger fish out there in the world after all."

"Verna," she offers in introduction, once more providing some contrast to Mikilos, for better or worse. "Mourner and sage.." to Aragos she adds, "My apologies. I had mistaken your prior comment as your introduction."

Oh, people are doing introductions now. Lysos has her cup to her face, obscuring most of it as she eyes the three most currently active people in the pub. The colorful ones. "Lysos?" she offers, instantly hating herself for the insecurity her delivery suggests. Stupid girl, you're better than this. "Lysos," she says more firmly.

Aragos cracks a smile, but anyone paying attention might note that it doesn't really reach his eyes. His strange purple eyes are empty like a sky without clouds. "Nice to meet you all." He lifts his whiskey up and 'toasts' everyone. He eyes Mikilos and his smile flashes a little wider. "Well, since you're rich, how about you buy a round?"

Mikilos laughs. "I've read there was a tribe of Khazad who's full names were a ballad of their family line, with each generation adding a new verse. -Pretty- sure is just a legend, but hard to be certain." He smiles to Aragos "Because I'm also cheap? But sure, a round will hardly break my budget." He motions to the barkeep, yes, a round on him.

"Don't make the man buy a drink for every letter in his name or we might actually fuckin' bankrupt him, Aragos," Andelena says with a smirk. "Thanks, though, Mikilos."

She raises her drink in a toast as well. "To new friends or whatever. Speaking of which--Verna, how you doing over there? I hope you and Auranar are doing okay."

Verna has only just sipped her arrived tea when she passes on the Mikilos-funded round. "I only require the one cup, but I will not defer any others from the generous offer." She does lift her glass in honor of the toast, if primarily out of protocol and politeness. It is Andelena's inquiry that fully draws her focus from her drink up to the crimson-coiffed Sunguard, and more color alights her eyes. "We are well, indeed. You have our gratitude for your prior efforts."

The door opens again. It does that a lot, in a place like this. This time, the man who enters is one that some here will know. A cool breeze suggests the need for the cloaks, but Dolan moves with a purpose into the room, a journey pack slung over his back and full to bursting. He is devoid of his usual cheeky grin, and there's some tension written through him, but he otherwise appears to be in good health, and indeed seems to have gotten more sleep than usual.

That changes when he spots familiar faces among the group at the bar, the side of his face that is not so ruined as to still be expressive lights with a cheeky grin. "Thought I might find you somewhere that had booze, Andie." This is said with a wealth of affection and good humor, and he strides up to the redheaded Sunguard without hesitation.

Aragos chuckles again, his good humor almost reaching his eyes now. "He seems well enough off to me." He answers Andelena, eyeing Mikilos a little bit and flashing the man his teeth in a near grin. He accepts another drink from the bartender, and sets to work on it perhaps a touch slower on the draw now than before. The dark-haired man looks up as yet another person enters the bar and remarks dryly. "This place sure did get busy fast didn't it?"

Mikilos glances to the new arrival and waves a greeting before motioning to the bar. "Grab a drink, this round's on me." He nods to Aragos and shrugs. "Tends to happen that way. When time comes, likely to clear out almost as fast."

Lysos finishes her tea, leaving the cup on the bar along with another coin. She offers Andelena and Dolan another small smile and wave, then ducks around the tall elf again and makes her way back out of the pub.

Andelena turns around and returns Dolan's grin, throwing her arm around him and planting a kiss on his cheek. "You betcha, darling," she says with a snicker. "Just got off my shift, so I figured I'd unwind with a drink or two--or, well, three, now. Courtesy of Mikilos with the long name here," she says, gesturing to Mikilos.

She looks to the crowd and says, "This hot piece of ass here's my man--he goes by Dolan." Yeah, she's definitely had a bit to drink, as she's grinning ear-to-ear and is overtly flirty on the man. "I was just asking Verna how she and Auranar are doing, Bry."

"I see that." Andelena's beginning inebriation is not lost on Dolan, and he wraps an arm around her waist in turn, in the way of one who's had to hold her up before. He looks around at the others, and Aragos gets a polite nod of recognition. "Yeah, tends to come and go here," he agrees, but eyes Mikilos with some interest. "You sure? Thanks, man."

He turns to the barkeep and bespeaks a simple enough ale for himself. Only then does he come back to the topic of which Andelena is speaking. "Yes, I'd like to know that myself. The information you gave me worked, by the way, Verna, but we need to go as soon as you're ready to."

Verna notes Dolan's entry peripherally, though its not until he sidles up and Andelena introduces him (in no uncertain terms) that she takes full note. To include the casual embracing. A moment after the inquiry, her eyes lift to Dolan's visage. "We are well, as I informed Andelena as well as thanked here for enabling such."

His news after is not surprising and she nods. "I can be prepared in short order..." her lips purse a moment given the topic, "and I would be remiss if I did not take a moment to inform ... the hot piece of ass that is my girlfriend of my imminent departure." Perhaps she is testing Andelena's prior wisdom concerning vernacular.

For a second time Aragos is choking on his drink. First at Andelena's comment and then snorting when the Mourner returns the phrase in kind. One simply doesn't expect a Mouner to say such things. Which is certainly something that Aragos can attest to... "Where... Where are you two headed?" He asks curiously, taking slower breaths so that he doesn't drown himself.

Mikilos blinks, eyeing Verna's tea. Or is that 'tea'? "....what is this you're prepared for?" he nods to Argos, joining the question

Andelena's in the middle of raising her glass to her lips as Verna refers to Auranar as a 'hot piece of ass'. She smacks the glass down onto the counter and lets out a loud peal of laughter. "Damn, Verna! When I woke up this morning, I didn't think I'd hear a Mourner try out a mouth as filthy as mine. That's /funny/. Holy shit."

It is probably a good thing for Dolan that his drink hasn't arrived yet, because he very nearly splutters at Verna's borrowing of Andelena's crude phrasing. No matter how accustomed he is to such things from Andie, hearing it from the Mourner is another matter entirely. He blinks a few times, colors, and clears his throat forcefully, clearly trying not to laugh and sort of succeeding. "Yeah," he manages at last. "That's, uh, fine. Get your stuff together, and we need to find the others."

To Aragos and Mikilos, he says, still clearly trying to contain laughter, "No offense meant, but I better keep that one to myself. Unfinished business," is all he says on the matter. "I'm no mage, and Verna here has agreed to give me a hand."

Given how Verna seems nonplussed by her own comment and instead observes the reactions of others, it very likely was an experiment. That and, as some noted, such is far from her typical verbiage. "Intriguing..." Mental notes are made as she takes another sip of her tea before setting it back down. "Your method seems further substantiated, Andelena. My thanks for your note of it. As well, I am pleased that all found humor in the effort. Some have noted it to be an aspect in which I am rather inept." After a pause, she belatedly adds, "Not to imply that my subjective description of Auranar was inaccurate or exaggerated in any manner."

Aragos lifts his cup to Dolan. "I won't pry where I'm not wanted. Good luck though. Never know when you might need that. Though if you've a Mourner with you..." He flashes his teeth, but his purple eyes are dead serious. "Well at least death will be the least of your worries."

Mikilos nods and waves vaguely. "Just curious. If best left untold, so be it."

"Yeah, don't take it personally--just stuff Dolan and I have been dealing with," Andelena says to Aragos and Mikilos. "Verna, too, obviously--I'm kind of along for the ride on account of Dolan being, you know, my guy and all."

She looks at Dolan. "Speakin' of which, I oughta go home and pack up, too, huh. Should we go together, or...? I kinda wanted to talk to you about some stuff there, too."

Dirk pushes open the door to the Fernwood and comes trundling in. As always, he's got a bright, chipper smile on his face, and a spring in his step. "Hello, all!" he booms cheerfully as he makes his way over to the bar. "Let's have a round fer the house! I'm feelin' generous today!" He leans his thunderbelcher up against the bar and hops up into one of the bar stools, doffing his tricorne and setting it aside. Dolan and Verna get friendly waves over his head, as do Mikilos and Andalena. "Oy, tallfolk! All right?"

"Yeah? Sure, we can pack up and talk when we get back. I got us travel provisions and stuff." Dolan nods politely to Mikilos and Aragos. "Yeah, kind of a personal errand." Before he can say more, Dirk booms through the door, and he looks up, turning himself fully to face the khazad and half-twisting out of Andelena's sideways embrace in the process. "Brightest of days to you. You look well, that's a good thing."

Aragos grins at the dwarf's offer of another round on the house, motioning to the bartender already for another of what he's got going. Even helpfully draining his glass so that he can accept his... fifth? Sixth? Well it's a lot of drinks, and that's just since people started coming in the door. "I kindly accept!" He offers to the dwarf, his voice less booming and more serious.

Mikilos raises a mug in greetings to Dirk's arrival. "Welcome welcome. Am doing well enough myself. I take it things are good with you?"

Verna finishes her tea and greets the arriving Dirk as she prepares to depart. "I shall see to my preparations, if you would excuse me." She sits in the pub with tea and determines how many rounds Aragos, Dirk, or others might consume (and how many of those were actually charged to the imbiber), or ... she can spend her time more ...personally.

"Oh, hey there, Dirk," Andelena calls out to the dwarf over her shoulder. "Yeah, we're doing okay! Dolan and I are headed out too, though. Got stuff at home to deal with."

She wraps her arm around Dolan's shoulder, handsy as ever when she's had a few to drink. "C'mon, Bry. Let's go.--Light of the Knight on everyone's paths!" she calls out, and the two Daeusites leave the Fernwood shortly after.

Dirk boggles a little bit as folks start to take their leave. "Och, was it summat I said?" he asks, reaching up to sheepishly rub the back of his head. But at least some are remaining to take advantage of a free drink! "Green Lady guide ye, friends!" he calls to those departing, before he turns his attention back to the others. Mikilos gets a grin and a nod. "Aye, had a great day in the market today!" he says. As his mug of beer gets set before him, he takes it up and lifts it towards Aragos. "Here's fer yer health!" he booms, before tossing the mug back. His throat works like a mighty pump, his Adam's apple leaping up and down as he drains the mug in four hearty swallows. Once it's empty, he bangs it down on the bar with a floor-shaking "BRAAAAAAAACH!"

Aragos chuckles quietly at the dwarven antics before shaking his head and quietly sipping his whiskey. The others leave and the place is all the quieter for it, well... As quiet as it can be with company like Dirk in any case. Either way Aragos doesn't seem to mind, he seems somewhat focused on his drinking.

Dirk laughs deeply, pushing his mug over to be refilled. While he's waiting, he digs into his hip satchel for his pipe and tobacco pouch. "Dirk Stormgrip, friend," he says to Aragos. "Dinnae think I've seen ye about afore. How d'ye do?"

The dark-haired man eyes Dirk a moment then shrugs. "I'm Aragos. Just... Aragos." He offers, drinking this round of whiskey a little slower than the last. "I'm in a bar, with a drink that I didn't pay for. So better than yesterday." He tips his cup toward the other man.

Dirk fills his pipe, tamping the bowl with a fingertip and tucking the bit in the side of his mouth. "True talk, laddie, true talk," he says, nodding his head as he stows his tobacco pouch. He fishes a match out of his pocket and strikes it off the bar, taking a moment to get his pipe fired up. Once he has a hearty glow kindled in the bowl, he snaps the match out, letting loose a billow of sweet cherry pipe smoke. "But anyroad, welcome tae Alexandria! Hell of a place, this."

"That's why I'm here." Answers Aragos, taking in a breath of the smoke and nodding in appreciation of the scent. "Good tobacco." The dark-haired man takes another drink and makes half a motion toward his chest and then curses. "I take it you've been here a while?"

Dirk's broad grin grows even brighter at the compliment. "Why thank ye!" he booms, taking ahold of his pipe. "Grew it meself!" He picks up his refilled mug, taking his time to appreciate this one. "Oh, I've been comin' tae Alex fer years now," he says, wiping his mouth off on the back of his fist. "I bring in furs, pelts, an' leathers I've hunted." He grins a bit. "Got a plot fer growin' tobacco too. An' I hand-carve pipes, when huntin' is light."

"Sounds like a living." Aragos nods. His expression has darkened slightly, his purple eyes heavy with thought. "You live outside the city?"

Dirk draws a steady pull from his pipe, the bowl glowing hotly in his hand. "Aye, I've a cabin out in the wood, nae far from town," he says. "My clan's always been hunters. Suppose ye could call us the black sheep o' the khazad clans. But it's a livin', as ye say!"

Aragos nods again. "Must be nice." Obviously this man has some lacking in the conversational skills department. Still, he seems amiable enough at the moment. In fact he seems to realize something, and straightens in his seat, downing his cup and looking around the room of drunkards. Landing finally on Dirk. "Looks like that elf was right. Everyone kind of vanished all at once didn't they?"

Dirk looks over his shoulder, glancing around through another billow of pipe smoke. "Aye, seems like it, dunnit?" he says. "That's tallfolk fer ye. You lot are always rushin' about! But I'm nae bothered. Yer good sorts, by an' large!"

This comment makes Aragos snort loudly. "You don't know me at all. Buying a man a drink in bar doesn't tell you much about him." Aragos finishes his glass and it seems that the alcohol is finally getting to him a bit as his eyes are somewhat distant. He waves for another drink and gets it rather quickly. Prepayment? Or has the bartender already seen his gold in another way? "Just as I don't know you. Could be trying to get me drunk so you can steal my coin for all I know."

Dirk boggles a bit at that, then his shaggy white brows furrow with a harrumph. "Well, -there's- a fine how-do-ye-do, innit?" he grumbles. "Try an' be friendly an' courteous, an' I'm secretly some sort o' no-good brigand out tae rob ye? Hrmph! An' they say -dwarves- are the grouchy ones." He knocks back his beer, setting it down and pushing the mug over for another refill. "Och, there's nae pleasin' some," he mutters around his pipe.

"Just sayin' that you could be. Not that you are." He makes a waving motion with his hand and the hand isn't terribly steady. "How would I know?" He lowers the hand again. Carefully picking up his glass and taking a long swig. "People are cruel. Selfish. Prideful things."

Dirk takes ahold of his pipe, lifting his mug to down another swallow. "Aye, they -can- be," he says. "But they dinnae -have- tae be, do they? Sometimes, people are kind, friendly, an' helpful, too. Me mam always told me, ye catch more flies wi' honey than vinegar." He pauses, his brows furrowing. "'course, I'm nae exactly sure why anyone would -want- tae be catchin' flies, but... ye get my point."

Aragos makes a slightly rude noise and downs the rest of his drink. "Enough of that. Don't want no flies, or people buzzing around me. Don't need 'em." His words are slightly slurred around the edges and he doesn't look away from his sadly empty glass. "You should go. 'afore I get any drunker." He laughs. "Gods it feels good to finally take the edge off."

Dirk snorts. "I just got here," he grumbles. "If ye want tae get shitfaced, that's on you. But I wouldnae start anything if I was you. Me da always told me, play stupid games, win stupid prizes. An' nobody needs stupid prizes." He tips back his mug, gulping the rest of his beer. "'sides, I'm sure I don't need tae remind you that yer jubblies are right at punchin' height fer me."

The dark-haired man laughs, and it's the first real - good - sound that's come out of him. Aragos turns toward Dirk and there's a LIGHT in his eyes. "You wanna fight?" It's a gleeful question, full of anticipation. "I'll give up the drinking for a good row."

Dirk peers at the man through a gust of pipe smoke. "Yer spoilin' fer a scrap, aren't ye?" he says at length. "Och, why are ye like this? Who hurt ye?" He shakes his head. "I'd be takin' advantage if I threw down wi' ye. Look at yeself, yer sloshin' all over the place!"

It was true of course, there was little more that Aragos wanted than a good fight. A drink and a good solid match where he could... "I did." He says sourly, his mood spoiled in a split second, purple eyes turning away from Dirk and his empty cup. "Maybe yer right. Maybe I'm too drunk to give a fuck." He slams his head onto the bar none too gently.

Dirk startles at that thud. "Beards o' me fathers!" he grunts, blinking owlishly at the man. "If it's a fuck yer wantin', there's some pretty lasses workin' the corner down the way. But I'm gettin' the feelin' yer nae after that." He shakes his head, picking up his freshly filled mug to tip back a swallow. "I'd rather fuck than fight anyway," he says. "It's a hell of a lot more fun, even if it -does- end up costin' ye some coin. Worth it, though."

Aragos mumbles something into the table that sounds like he's disagreeing with Dirk but it's hardly intelligible through the wood. After a moment he sighs and rolls his face to the side, a red spot glowing on his forehead. "I don't pay for it. Never had to." Well, he is a fairly handsom man so that might explain it, though his personality might leave something to be desired by the fairer sex. "Buy me another drink if you're a friend. You know, since you're not robbing me or fighting me."

Dirk hrrms. "Oy, barkeep. Another one fer the lad here," he calls. He studies Aragos, puffing quietly at his pipe. "Well, that must be nice," he says. "Nae many lasses out there who fancy dwarves. Fer -some- reason or another. How could they not, eh? We're built like bears, tough as mountains, an' have ye seen this -beard-?" He tugs at his magnificent white beard. "Ye'd think there'd be lasses fallen all over 'emselves fer some time wi' me!"

Another drink rolls Aragos' way and he smiles his thanks to Dirk first and then the barkeep who looks a bit doubtful that he should still be serving the purple-eyed man. Aragos arches an eyebrow at Dirk and shrugs. "No clue. Personally... I'm not into beards." He shrugs again. "Don't see why a lady would be either, but then who knows what goes through a woman's mind. They're like..." He goes distant-eyed. "Magic."

Dirk nods his head. "Aye, that they are," he says. "But fer a time, at least, they can be wonderful company." He grins a bit. "An' they certainly never complain once they've had a taste o' dwarf, I can guarantee ye that!" He laughs deeply, hefting his mug. "Here's fer the lasses! May they always be there tae ease our hearts an' turn us tae gabblin' fools!"

"Aye." Says Aragos, clinking his glass against Dirk's mug. There's a small slosh of liquid, but Aragos doesn't lose any of his drink. Barely. Down the hatch it goes in one gulp and Aragos stands up, stretching a bit and nodding to Dirk. "Alright friend. I'm headed to the head and then to bed." He laughs lightly at his rhyming and picks up his massive blade from where it rests beside his stool. In spite of his inebriation he manages to sheathe the weapon as smoothly as a duck swimming in water. "I'll catch you some other time."

Dirk lifts his pipe in a gesture of farewell. "Green Lady guide ye, laddie," he says. "An'... keep yer chin up. World can surely be an awful place. But ye can find summat beautiful within it, if ye only know how tae look." He nods his head, settling back in his seat as he relaxes with his pipe.

-End