"Then it is good that we are not in Ashenvale," Huni agrees in Orcish, "You have no fear of my axes, for I have left them in the room above."  She lifts her tankard, recently refilled, sloshes as she lifts in salute to one of the few people who has kept their clothes upon their body and would seem to now be her drinking companion in the den of vice and body fluids.  She does not weep for the spilled ale, but instead makes certain that she will not repeat the mistake of the spill upon the floor by taking a deep draft.  She feels the tension in her muscles relax, reminding herself twice over that again, that even if someone may be an enemy in the future they can be a friend or at least an acquaintance in the now.  She rolls her shoulders forward, propping an elbow on the counter before her.  "You're welcome to share cup with me, if you will.  I see no reason to make enemies when friends abound.  Today."  She smirks, full lips twisting around the tusks that jut from her lower jaw, reaching up to wipe sweat from her brow.  "You speak well for a long-ear."  She tugs at her own pointed lobes with a wider smile, to diffuse any offense at the title.<br/><br/>Yalamir's explicit, rambling invitation to join him and the undead in their tryst is met with bemusement.  One may mistake it as outright dismissal by expression alone, until she turns toward the elf.  "My common is not nearly practiced enough to understand what he just said... I can only grasp bits and pieces of it, mostly complimenting my ass and sitting."<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>