This, Molly realized, was a man who took himself entirely too seriously.<br/><br/>Not even seriously in the way of her old master, who was ridiculous about his little mannerisms. This tea here, not doing this, bowing at crossroads--and all with the somber feeling of reverence that made her shiver a little bit. No, this guy here was the sort who wore his baggage on his eyebrows and couldn't quite pull them up under it's crushing weight. That was, at least, what she gathered as he stared at her and made it quite plain that he was about to lose his temper over little old her.<br/><br/>What, she couldn't quite help thinking, an easy mark.<br/><br/>"Not by you, killer," she said appreciatively, grinning and winking to him before making her way back into the tavern, "I've got bigger fish to fry." When she slid past him into the tavern proper, the long pants flowed around her waist as it bopped back and forth--not that she really had anything to bop back there, she was about as curvy as most twelve year old boys. It was a toss-up as to whether or not she'd goaded the young man into following her, but she didn't much mind. He'd either be proud enough to storm after her and demand satisfaction or he'd be too proud and deign her beneath his attention and march off to do whatever it was stuck-up muckety-mucks did. The latter was more boring than the former, but she like she said--bigger fish.<br/><br/>The real problem with being a halfling is the crowds. It's not so bad, as it usually isn't, among your own kind. But in mixed company, knees and boots are an awful lot more menacing when they're at head-chest-stomach height than when they keep their own company. Molly did her best to make up for it by being easy to notice--certainly she cut a figure, and between her sauntering walk and her blatant appearance she only had to maneuver herself out of the way of a stumble twice on her way to the counter. Though some of her more rotund race-mates might have found themselves at odds with human-height stools, she mounted it without a second thought--a quick grasp and a weightless, surprisingly effortless hop had her bellied up with the best of them.<br/><br/>Or at least with an elf, which was news in and of itself. The woman next to her--in her flowing robes and with a startlingly sizeable wolf at her side--was entirely too fair to be a human, and there was certainly something of the exotic about her slanted features and elegant form. She'd never really seen an elf before--heard of them, of course, but never seen one. Were they as stuck up as everyone said? She couldn't beat Captain Serious-Face, could she? Molly was almost too busy flicking looks at the woman out of the corner of her eyes to jump in with the others in their assault of the poor barkeep.<br/><br/>"Throw in a pint, while you're at it," she drawled proudly, trying to play it off like she'd done it a dozen times before, "it's been a long and thirsty road."<br/><br/>Genius. He'd never suspect a thing.