Darion only half listened to the chatter from the elf.  Getting more frustrated by the minute as he couldn’t avoid noticing how Vinnie seemed to draw into herself as the conversation went on.  The hatred for the woman coming back to the surface from their meeting.  He hadn’t been stupid enough to think that their civility the past few weeks had been normal.  He remembered the way they first acted towards each other.  He knew she had been holding back so that the others didn’t see the two leaders fighting.<br/><br/>Something didn’t seem right as the elf didn’t seem as he remembered exactly either… not that he remembered much.  But he also noticed she seemed to poke at them both, trying to bring up that initial hatred again.  Did she revel in it?  Unlike Winnie though, he was watching them both, and had not drank nearly enough to not be watching her and Winnie.<br/><br/>Something in the back of his mind was bothering him.  Like a little voice telling him not to relax even slightly.  He was listening to it as he drank the wine in moderation.  Especially, over her laughter he heard the approaching thunder of a storm.  He didn’t want to be drunk when that happened.  Too many factors keeping him from drinking like he knew he could.  It sucked having so many lives in his hands.<br/><br/>Because he was actually paying attention, he couldn’t miss when a flash of lighting struck outside the ships, and the Elf’s eyes changed to something he had never seen before.  Two burning orbs of bright red.  And her beautiful skin sagged.  His already bland expression dropped to an even more dour expression as he set his half full glass down on the table.  His eyes no longer leaving hers as his right hand reached to where his sword stat.  Slowly as the elf began speaking.<br/><br/><span style="color: green">“Well… it may have been possible.  You look only a few steps under Winnie’s beauty.  But there is one problem…”</span>he stopped as he shot up out of his chair and his muscled arm shot out to clamp around the fake elf’s neck.  As soon as his hand was around her throat, he pulled her across the table enough to where he could level the point of the blade he drew from the sheath at the side of the table.<span style="color: green">“… You are not Esserea.  Who are you really?”</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>