My Words | Your Words | My Thoughts
13th of Spring, 515.
He could feel Ser Iros' eyes on the back of his head - the same place they'd been for nearly half a bell since they'd walked in. A constant presence looming overhead that stopped him even trying to have fun.. but then again, he only had himself to blame. If he'd not punched that girl.. caused all the trouble down in the Herald's Arms.. then maybe he could be trusted to be able to walk into a bar unescorted. Stupid. The little voice in his nexus was back. Louder than before as well. "Shut up." Having arguments with himself wasn't healthy. He was still sane enough to know that. The voice apparently didn't have control over his ears though; nor did it share such qualms. Your fault. You brought it down on yourself, again.
If he stopped paying attention to it, the voice became a whisper after a few ticks. Hopefully after a good night of sleep, it'd go away again. "Can I fetch you anything else to drink, Ser?" He was about to tell the voice to shut up again when he realized that this time, it wasn't his head. That young girl from before.. Mila.. had his empty cup in one hand and a polite smile on her face. A nice girl; nicer than the other woman who'd scolded him for sitting on the bar counter instead of the stools. As if she was so blind, she couldn't see what stared her in the face. He returned the smile but curled the corners of his 'lips' a little farther than hers.
"I think just one more mug will do it for me. Dare say I've had more than my fill already.. how much was it again? Ahh, don't tell me, don't tell me.." The girl was already gone and back by the time he'd struggled to fish out a gold Miza from somewhere deep inside his clay. Three silver came back into his outstretched paws and he unceremoniously shoved them back into his 'stomach' to collect later. They didn't taste very nice.. he'd much prefer a little pouch to shove them in, but it'd be more like a back-pack and those things were damn expensive. "Thank you dear. Lovely as usual." Her smile brightened a little more and he responded in kind before some drunkard dragged her off so that he could stuff his gullet with more ale.
Lost, without company excluding his patron - at the moment, the last person that he wanted to sit with - the squirrel returned to nursing his new mug with a finger dipped inside to slowly absorb its contents. He'd tried desperately to persuade Ser Iros to allow his leave so that he could spend some time away from his squirely responsibilities.. but damn, if he'd never felt more restrained by them than he did now. The eyes were still there, burying into the back of his head until he swore that Iros was staring into his nexus and could hear the thoughts swirling around his mildly-intoxicated mind.
Then, just like that, the eyes were gone again. So accustomed to them, he turned around to the crimson full-plate knight to find him staring off to a different corner of the room.. where a couple's private argument, left unattended for petch knew how long, was escalating into heated shouting. One by one, eyes turned to watch the scene unfold yet nobody made to move. Archailist couldn't even understand what they were arguing about - the moment one tried to make themselves heard, the other raised their voice even higher than before. They must have understood each-other though; as their screaming reached a crescendo, greedily consuming the attentions of the entire inn, the burly man unstable on his feet slammed his mug hard enough into the wood to leave a heavy dent along its surface and spill most of the floor in undrunk ale as well.
"Ser Iros?" The innkeeper was on his feet but the Akalak was faster, even in thick platemail. He weaved around the tables and chairs, grabbed the man in a headlock with one arm and twisted an arm behind his back with the other, frogmarched him straight up to the door and out into the spring evening with barely a few words uttered from Nathan. "Well.. there goes the excitement." At least he wasn't the one being marched out this time. A refreshing feeling.
