The bard certainly knew how to wax poetic. His beautifully constructed speech seemed entirely genuine, even to her, and though some would think it was chock-full of flower, his words offered a great deal of insight into the man, perhaps even more than the words Diego had given. With his descriptions of the ruffians, patrons, as well as her and the gambler, came judgment. He seemed to more than wholeheartedly support the heroic narrative shaping around the incident, fitting himself as a the humble bard who had tried his best in the time of crisis.<br/><br/>Taking a seat at the bar as Diego flipped the coin back to Donny, Loretta put her own coin down and signaled the number three once she had the attention of the barkeep again. “<b>Of course,</b>” she agreed with their hero. How could she turn down the invitation when there was promise of interesting company and people to ruin? This was how she had ended up here at the bar, after all. It was strategically placed, a crossroads to all kinds of people, offering her a vast selection of life to pluck.<br/><br/>“<b>Gentlemen, please allow me to quench your thirst as you argue over the coin. I’d hate for you,</b>” to the white knight, “<b>To taste blood for too long or for you,</b>” to the bard, “<b>To have your mouth run dry.</b>” The amusement she found in watching their interaction lent itself well to her warm words. “<b>If you won’t accept it as a gesture of thanks, then consider it a celebration of newfound companionship,</b>” she finished, flashing a genuine smile at the two of them.