She smiled as she sensed the elf trying to poke some kind of emotional rise from the woman, even going so far as to let out a light chuckle, though not saying anything for a short moment. "Bitch, Curr, mongrel, mutt, fleabag..." she waved the hand which held the charcoal in the air as if to indicate the list of slurs could easily go on and on, "And you have your facts wrong about our king. He's one of us, you know. Your own bitch tried to kill him and he lost his son for it. He is a great king who loves his people." She finished the last of the bourbon and set it down with a clunk loud enough for the bartender to notice, "Scotch this time, Fillamug." She looked down after the Goblin shook his head at her use of his surname and retrieved her glass, "Tempting me to strike first is useless, you know." She struck the page with a final word before closing it and putting the supplies away.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>