Agnes approaches the daunting countertop with a tipsy sway. She clears her throat and places her sturdy Dwarven palms to the backs of Alexei's thighs, shifting her sideways with surprising strength for her short stature. "Scuse me, love!" she coos. Once she's moved enough she lays an affectionate slap to her bottom, snapping noisily against the fitted riding leathers.<br/><br/>Green eyes shift to the imposing barstool before her. Short arms brace against the seat, straining the little woman's firm arms as she muscles up and atop the wobbly stool. "Ach! There we go... Now..." She murmurs, turning a thoughtful look towards the barkeep. "Give us a dark iron wagon bomb, love."<br/><br/>With a sigh of relief Agnes shifts upon her seat, unlacing the waist of her tight trousers and letting out a pleased exhale. Her bright, half-lid eyes drift back towards the alabaster night elf sitting all by herself, briefly appraising her.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>