<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/6a/bd/aa/6abdaae185d09fccd9d98303baa7288f.jpg)</div><strong>Gillie Pussyfoot (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=267889.msg13211389#msg13211389)</strong><br/><em>Gnome Rogue 1</em><br/><strong>Status</strong>: Normal<br/><strong><strong>HP</strong></strong>8<strong>AC</strong>14<br/><strong>PP</strong>11<br/><hr/><br/>Gillie'd been there a while, tucked into a suitably shadowy corner of the room, despite the hassle of having to constantly shoo off fresh-faced hero types who thought she had some sort of quest to give them.  She watched the very noticeable bard and his lovely friend as she spent a bit of her "hard-earned" coin on a questionable pie that made her miss the roasted rat Tibalt had once cooked her for her birthday and a pint of ale.  The ale wasn't strong enough to wash the taste of the pie from her mouth, and she grew more concerned about the origins upon seeing the busboy Toby's expression when he spied it on her plate.  His eyes said that he'd seen some shit, and most of what he'd seen was probably in that pie.  Shoving her "food" aside barely touched, she focused on her ale and picked a bit of "meat" from between her teeth with the tip of Jelly.<br/><br/>She resheathed her dagger and perked as she watched the mountain come to Mohammad, leaning forward as Cedevex sat down at the table, fully expecting his chair to disintegrate beneath him.  Downing the last of her ale, she held up her hands to take a few rough measurements of the barbarian's shoulder-span and thigh-thickness.  She wagered that she could neatly tuck herself behind one of those legs and be utterly invisible to potential enemies.  Good to know.<br/><br/>Her attention shifted from Brawny McMusclemilk to the blond bard, a smirk quirking up the corner of her mouth at the woman's waving and posture.  Maybe she was a mute?  Either way, so far Gillie didn't hold out much hope for dazzling conversation from these two.  Sliding off her chair, she gave a quick stretch, then sauntered across the room toward the table.  She was shorter than the chairs, nearly short enough to walk comfortably upright beneath the tables without bumping her head, but she exuded bigness.  Skirting the chasm, she strode up to the table they were all at and grinned up at Heuvar's companion.<br/><br/>"Evening, lovely.  I'm Gillie Pussyfoot...but you can call me breakfast."