Luis
The Drama chuckled quietly as Amos spoke; his reactions, his words, everything about this particular interaction was amusing, very amusing. Yes, the Drama may have been backed into a corner if he wasn't a good writer, maybe if he wasn't as good an actor as he was, maybe if he didn't lead as interesting a life as he did, maybe, just maybe the Drama might be in trouble. Thankfully, though, the Drama had many lies to tell, as this moment was one he prepared for. 

"You caught me. If, and only if I die one day, it will ultimately be the fault of my undying curiosity. If I must confess, it's truly the reason I was sneaking up on you in the first place. Just looking at you—you fascinate me. It's nice to know you feel the same." The Drama nodded, as he fully agreed with Amos's sentiments. In fact, his writer brain had been reeling at the thought of Amos monologuing from the very beginning. Though, at first, he was prepared to ignore it, now he had the perfect opportunity to lay his weary mind to rest.

"It is, very much so. I don't believe I'd be able to live with myself as a writer if I made you talk as if you were some tavernkeep from a poorly written novel, so I simply must accept your offer." The Drama nodded, and quietly wondered which lie to tell. Would he tell a story of a bartender who worked under a former crook, and has slowly been becoming close friends with her? Would he tell of a once famous warrior who went into hiding to find himself, only to come back as a simple, hard-working man who wore eccentric, self-expressive clothing? Or, perhaps, would he..

"I shall start the trade with a snippet of my story, then we shall go from there. That seems fair, wouldn't you agree?" The Drama chuckled some, and went along right after his rhetorical question. As he spoke and chuckled, he unbuttoned the lowest buttons on his suit, before pulling it open to reveal his belly.

"I'll tell you of how I acquired this scar." He pointed to the gnarly, crooked scar that entered his belly right below the left of his ribcage and seemed to drag down and to the right until it abruptly stopped- as if whoever made the scar was in a rush. Truly, the story behind the scar itself wasn't interesting. The Drama, however, intended to lie.
Pearl
It seemed this whole charade was going well, though it had last time as well so why wouldn't it this time as well? Still he kept up on it, using the one thing he'd been able to keep in his time away from everything to play at this game; Words and wit. He supposed, off and on, that he may have been quite a good bard if he put his mind to it, but he wasn't sure he could tolerate the attention. So onward he goes as John speaks.

"Fascinate you?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "It seems an odd or 'exotic' appearance does that to folks, doesn't it?" He sits, cross legged now with little mind to if his clothes become dirty. A little bit of dirt hadn't killed him yet and he doubted it would anytime soon. "I suppose so long as you don't try and stick me in some gilded cage to gawk at however, that's fine enough." And if he did then he'd have to put up with a hundred years of his sass too.

"As a writer? You write?" He asked, brows raised. Really it'd been some time since he had been able to *Read* Anything, and he briefly wondered if he would even recall it without a few minutes to become familiar with the pastime. "Either way I'd hope not. There isn't an acceptable vintage anywhere near here to make a bit of droning on tolerable. Still, a trade for a trade is fine. Once you finish, I'll share a bit of mine, and we'll continue on from there. Trading back and forth if you will; Keeps things fair, I'd agree."

He paused as John undid the lower buttons on his shirt, waiting patiently, then tilted his head. Scars tended to be fascinating things to him. All he had to show for his time locked away were the worn, smooth rings on his limbs, and he kept those well and truly covered. "Alright. Then I'll tell you how I came to acquire these horns." 

Though similarly, he did intend to color the story with lies. Some truth helped keep the yarn together of course, but no reason to spill your sad life story to a stranger.
Luis
Truly, the Drama was already beginning to enjoy talking with Amos. He hadn't felt this enthralled having an actual conversation with another person in a long time. As Amos spoke, the Drama felt like he was understood, even though the elf didn't really understand the Drama's true feelings. The Drama believed that if Amos *Did* Know the truth of the Drama, Amos would understand, and he felt comfortable with that... No matter, though. That wasn't for this time, as the Drama was still skeptical of other people. He didn't really *Want* To reveal his secrets. So, he began his lie.

"Yes, I write. I only publish under pseudonyms, but I write. Now, I believe it was an autumn day when I was roughly sixteen years old," He started in truths, "I much enjoyed roaming near the bases of the forests near my hometown, and would often get myself lost in them." Then he immediately broke down into lies.

"If I recall correctly, I had someone whom I called a friend at the time in the woods with me, and we were foraging for berries to bring home to her mother for a pie. It was about noon, maybe a little past that, I remember that well, as I recall specifically looking up into the sky after my friend asked me the time." After he finished this sentence he smirked invisibly and chuckled some.

"I do believe that sets the scene quite well, and would be a nice place to leave off for you to speak, no?"
Pearl
He had some odd feeling in the back of his head, underneath his well learned behaviors, that... Well, this odd fellow didn't really mean him harm. Whilst the pig headed man had played along with him it'd felt plenty like a competition or a formal event; No one laid their cards on the table, just smiled, nodded and continued with the motions of a back and forth. Some of that was certainly here. Some of this was also a real interaction. It was odd, but not unenjoyable. So as John began to lie, he listened, head tilted.

"You'll have to tell me what pen names you use. Gods knows it's been quite a while since I last read a book, though books are something of a luxury when you travel," He commented before taking in the scene John set for his tale. It had some weighty detail to it, and he took it in, listening for odds and ends to collect and weave up into the tale. The probables, inprobables and outright lies. When he finished speaking, his mouth tips and he nods. "Sets the scene quite well, yes, I suppose then it is my turn," He concedes before exhaling and looking up. Playing into the earlier, playful lie of his memory of the incident being poor he takes his time as if reaching deep for some distant gleam of remembrance.

"Well, as I said, I have two siblings. I am the middle child between an elder sister and little brother. We've always had something of a rivalry going to see who can one up the other in various ways, I suppose. Our parents felt it was good for us; Like it would help us grow as people," Amos said, adding his own truths here and there amongst the lying. "This of course led to some interesting attempts to humiliate one another, either in private or public. Of course once *One* Of us got one over on the other, we would always have to up the stakes. It was only fair."

All in all the truth, except for how *Badly* That rivalry and one upsmanship went. But no need to dwell on that.

"I think I managed to ah, get my brother to miss some important party or another, and used his absence to my advantage. Like I said, it's quite a long time ago, but he was constantly one for trying to look good in front of others. I suppose I should have known that he would try something after that but, well, pride before the fall?" He smirked, voice light and amused before giving a nod. "And back to you, sir."