<hr/>Sir Spankalot?<br/>Location: Thorn & Talon: 'The Chapel'<br/>Tagging: Vulra<br/>Notes:<br/><hr/><br/>Gil couldn't deny the woman was attractive, but the fantasy he was entertaining at the current instant didn't have a whole lot to do with bedding her. Or rather it did, but not in the way such things usually went.<br/><br/>"If participatin' includes takin' the flat o' me sword to yer arse, yer can count me in." growled the paladin in response to the easterner's invitation, without so much as missing a beat. He glared her square in the eye, with every intent to cow her. "Now, for the second time, can yer sit the fuck down, 'cause yer won't be doin' much o' it after I'm through with yer. And that's no bet, 's a promise."<br/><br/>Gil's short temper was fairly notorious around the guild.  Most of the more regular crowd were well used to treading carefully. It paid not to piss off the healer, after all. Of course there'd always be a few exceptions who didn't really care. Most of which were in the room. Still, to a degree, it wasn't really his fault. The traumas of his younger years had left some serious scars behind. But how was Vulra supposed to know that?