Chandra couldn’t help but smile in amusement of the dwarf’s drunken jesting, but couldn’t dare to turn for a look and risk bursting into a girly giggle. This wasn’t the time for girliness, as the very survival of her fine meal relied upon her womanly charm. The chef’s assistant stared at her coat in the approximate area of her chest while she leaned against the counter of the bar.<br/><br/>“The fog, eh?” he asked, and yes, Chandra thought, that’s the<i>only</i>reason why I’d ever decide not to show my skin in a crowd of drunken sailors and dwarves; now go get me my jerky and stop staring like I was about to flash my tits. Asshole. He was right, though, but just this once. It must have been the fog. Chandra faked a smile, which she was pretty good at considering her living depended on it.<br/><br/>“It is rather cold,” she said, not that it was much colder than on the days before, or that she would’ve staid cold for long once she’d started to dance, but the man seemed oblivious to her lie and nodded. When he’d disappeared into the kitchen, Chandra turned her back on the silly dwarf to face Anna at her right again. The eerie music was followed by a silence even eerier, which compelled Chandra to ask Anna the so far unthinkable question, “How about a bottle of whiskey?”<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>