<i>God, this was good,</i>thought Avery, lifting his bowl and drinking the last of the broth from his soup.  His eyes followed the near-death scene in front of him, darting from the elf to the drow, and then to the little woman in the armor.  He thought that he had never seen such an entertaining night of theater in all his years!<br/><br/>His eyes went down to the empty bowl.<i>The soup was good too.</i>He sighed happily and dipped the last of his loaf of bread across the bottom on the bowl to sop up the last few drops.  It had been a long time since he had tasted such a divine combination of basil and celery, spiced with a bit of cumin and pepper... he almost wanted to lick his fingertips!<br/><br/>The young mercenary set the bowl down and picked up his ale mug to wash down the last bits.  His stomach almost hurt, it was so full!  He noticed with a wry smile that Ms Lightning (was she to be addressed as Sir Lightning?) didn't require any pledge from him, which was just as well.<br/><br/>At this rate he could let the flamboyant mage and the fiery ranger take the front flank and destroy whatever it was that they were facing, and he would come along afterwards and mop up whatever needed tidying. It was a good arrangement.  He liked tidying things up; it made for less chances of getting made dead, and it was certainly good for keeping blood off his clothing!  He liked the idea of not being made dead and bloody. It suited him.