As the night progressed, Michael encouraged some of the more inebriated patrons to join him in song and dance.  He started by rising from his seat and sharing a knowing wink to his party members, then making his way to the center of the room.  Clapping his hands a few times to grab everyone's attention, he paused long enough to track someone down with an instrument.  Even if he couldn't find anyone, he knew enough drinking songs that could be sang along to the beating of feet, and so he began one, a rowdy little ditty about the<i>Black Butterfly Rovers</i>, a group of fortunetellers, healers, and dancers, known to travel the land from town to town, performing shows, sometimes plays and other times lavish dances.  Their kind likely weren't common in these parts, but their plays were the stuff of legend.<br/><br/>"<i>Rover Nancy, she's my fancy<br/>
She's the girl you can’t turn down<br/>
How she greets ya when she meets ya<br/>
When the Rovers get into town<br/>
All the Rover ladies<br/>
They loves a real strong man<br/>
But at findin' a way to play in the hay<br/>
There's none like Rover Nan.</i>"<br/><br/>He sang slowly at first, his voice deep and with a power to it, the kind of voice that could calm a storm if it rose to a temper.  He clapped with a beat of his own creation, stomping where necessary and walking in a wide circle around tables, his grin infectious and full of genuine mirth.  He came to the half-orc and patted him on the back at the mention of a<i>real strong man</i>, likely drawing a couple of laughs from the rosy-cheeked patrons.<br/><br/>"<i>Now Rover girls are good at dancin’<br/>
They’re the best there is, no doubt<br/>
When the music sets them prancin’<br/>
How they strut and flounce about<br/>
All the Rover ladies<br/>
They dance when‘ere they can<br/>
But for real high kicks and fancy tricks<br/>
There's none like Rover Nan.</i>"<br/><br/>He picked up the pace, encouraging anyone to stand and start dancing with him.  There was no design to the dance, no elegant footwork required, just a cheek-hurting smile was all it took, and the willingness to jump around the room with ones hands above their head like a fool.<br/><br/>"<i>Now Rover girls they love to gargle<br/>
Rover girls they likes their tot<br/>
artwine and brandy, dwarf ale and whisk-away<br/>
Rover girls will go the lot<br/>
All the Rover ladies<br/>
Will swig when ‘ere they can<br/>
But at knockin’ it back while on her back<br/>
There's none like Rover Nan!</i>"<br/><br/>His enthusiasm was only matched by the roar of the inn, rowdy old men bursting into laughter, holding their gut with one hand, still clenched around their mugs, while the other fought uselessly against tears welling in their eyes.  Where the chorus obviously repeated, the inn cracked into cheer, everyone singing along as Michael led them into high spirits.  If they were going to leave a mark on the town, Michael wanted nothing more than for it to be a good one.<br/><br/>"<i>Now Rover Nancy keeps a carriage<br/>
Where real men can take their ease<br/>
She'll wake ya, she'll shake ya<br/>
She will do whate'er you please<br/>
Now all the Rover ladies<br/>
They does the best they can<br/>
But for makin' a bed for a real man’s head<br/>
There's none like Rover Nan!</i>"<br/><br/>With the song coming to a near end, Michael was practically dancing out of control, spinning and laughing with the dwarven barmaid, his body slightly stooped over while he held her hands and spun around the room with her.  He released her and let himself tumble backwards, hitting a post with a heavy thud, but with his high spirits and the intention of doing so to back him up, he finished the song with a drawn out line, rather than getting the wind knocked out of him.<br/><br/>"<i>No there's - none - like - Rover - Nan...</i>"<br/><br/>The mood carried on like that for the rest of the night, until hardworking men had to carry each other home to return to their wives.  Michael had found his way back to the party's table, grinning like a mad fool blessed by the<i> Laughing God</i>Kofusachi himself.  When everything had officially died down, Michael retired to his shared room with Gia as the party bid the innkeeper goodnight.  In the comfort of their room, Michael shed his clothes and left himself bare chested, wearing only his pair of pants to rest the night in.  His body was toned, surprisingly athletic for a man who practiced magic―practically witchcraft all told―and studied the history and teachings of the Gods.  He had a few notable scars as well, blade wounds on his chest and back, as well as a splotch of burned flesh on his right side, against his ribcage.<br/><br/>He had nothing to say about the twins other than an amused grin, having gone silent shortly after his song and dance earlier that night.<br/><br/>Come the morning Michael was one of the first to wake up, second only to the innkeeper himself, who had duties to tend to to begin the day.  The sorcerer woke before the first fingers of light crept over the hills, kneeling on the floor and beginning with a prayer, then another, and another again, preparing himself as devoutly as a cleric might, but to many Gods rather than one.  Whether he craved good fortune or sought atonement for some great sin could be anyone's guess, both explaining his devout practices quite clearly.<br/><br/>Joining the others downstairs with Gia, Michael ordered a plate of eggs, sausage links, and a baked potato to start out his day, and a thing of milk as well to wash it all down.  When Claramond slammed the table in her exuberance, Michael simply shook with soft laughter, nodding in agreement with her statement.  "We'd love to, master Phineas," he said, between bites of his potato.  "I imagine we should start by searching upriver," he suggested to the group.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>