Harold
*Horace was slumped over in his chair, head hanging limply as he relaxed. He could only handle a few drinks, which was frankly fortunate since it saved the elf from the taste.*

*And as for his mental state... Well, he wasn't useless, but he was certainly lacking in any common sense. Though to some, that was his natural state.*

*Horace then climbs out of his chair. Hazily approaching the red velvet sheets of the Inn bed, plopping face first into the warm comfort. Upon which, a muffled scream is heard, as the elf himself had forgotten about his arm.*
Tiara
"Are you ok?"

*Horace was evidently not ok, as he began screaming while face down. He probably lacked coordination due to the alcohol. Unfortunately, Yakaiyo did as well.*

*The treton stumbled over to the elf, pulling him over his normal arm, relieving the pressure off his wound.*

"Is that better?"
Harold
"Yes..."
*The elf calls in a more relieved voice, his expression matching.*
"I fuckin hate guards... Always stabbing and cuttin me... What did I ever do to them?"

*The elf drunkenly whines, complaining about the reasoning for the notch in his arm.*