It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the Dragon's Breath Tavern. When they did she could see Veritus sitting in the back of the long smoky room facing away from the entrance. Perfect.
Tenfingers was about to walk directly down there and pitch her idea before she remembered slamming her door in his face a few nights ago. It was so late that the details of the exchange were hazy. She didn't think she was too nasty to him, at least not any nastier than her usual rebuffs of his constant pestering. Then again, she hadn't seen him around since, which was unusual. He could be avoiding her.
Dammit, why did everything have to be so complicated? Tenfingers pulled up a a stool to think for a minute. Her elbows rested on the bar while the underside of her blouse sponged up a small lake of spilled beer. It was startlingly cold and she sat up straight, fast enough to tip backwards. Luckily she caught herself with her knees. Unluckily they clunked into the underside of the bar, hard enough to knock over the mugs of the patrons to either side of her. A huge man with a face almost completely hidden by a filthy red beard got up to brush some beer off his lap and curse her ancestry.
He stopped mid-sentence when he caught sight of her. Apparently he was more mollified by staring into her cleavage than by her profuse apologies and her offer to replace his beverage. She bought him one anyway and one for herself too. The exchange had given her an idea of how to approach Veritus, and she'd need the booze to lower her inhibitions enough to pull it off.
All that took was about a third of a glass. She had never built up a tolerance to alcohol and she was drinking on an empty stomach. In addition to that, the barkeep filled her mug with an incredibly potent dark ale, not the watered down swill he served to the most patrons. Part of her implored her leave it half finished. She might have listened if she had stolen it, but since it was something she had actually bought, wasting any was out of the question. The ale went straight to her head.
And then she went straight to the back of the room. Well not straight back, there was a fair amount of unsteady weaving involved.
Tenfingers was about to walk directly down there and pitch her idea before she remembered slamming her door in his face a few nights ago. It was so late that the details of the exchange were hazy. She didn't think she was too nasty to him, at least not any nastier than her usual rebuffs of his constant pestering. Then again, she hadn't seen him around since, which was unusual. He could be avoiding her.
Dammit, why did everything have to be so complicated? Tenfingers pulled up a a stool to think for a minute. Her elbows rested on the bar while the underside of her blouse sponged up a small lake of spilled beer. It was startlingly cold and she sat up straight, fast enough to tip backwards. Luckily she caught herself with her knees. Unluckily they clunked into the underside of the bar, hard enough to knock over the mugs of the patrons to either side of her. A huge man with a face almost completely hidden by a filthy red beard got up to brush some beer off his lap and curse her ancestry.
He stopped mid-sentence when he caught sight of her. Apparently he was more mollified by staring into her cleavage than by her profuse apologies and her offer to replace his beverage. She bought him one anyway and one for herself too. The exchange had given her an idea of how to approach Veritus, and she'd need the booze to lower her inhibitions enough to pull it off.
All that took was about a third of a glass. She had never built up a tolerance to alcohol and she was drinking on an empty stomach. In addition to that, the barkeep filled her mug with an incredibly potent dark ale, not the watered down swill he served to the most patrons. Part of her implored her leave it half finished. She might have listened if she had stolen it, but since it was something she had actually bought, wasting any was out of the question. The ale went straight to her head.
And then she went straight to the back of the room. Well not straight back, there was a fair amount of unsteady weaving involved.