The satyr (who didn't seem to have any hidden friends or snares about, nor be engaged in any current ledgermain as far as Rose could tell) slapped his knee, a touch angrily but seemingly to the world in general and not at Rose. "Then you take it truly, you do! The deadbeat beast owes me fifty gold still, I swear by Oberon! If you see him," the satyr waggled a finger, the back of which was as hairy as some men's palms, "You tell him that Randesh hasn't forget, and another seven years won't change that either! And if he starts bleating on about a certain<em>Expeditious Retreat</em>cast, you remind him that if he wanted magic out of the wager, he should've said so afore! A sentient stag, complaining about the use of magic," the satyr snorted. "Hypocrites surround us daily!"<br/><br/>One of the nymphs at his hoofed feet bobbed a greenish-blonde head in a concurring nod. "They so rarely appreciate it. I don't know why I even awaken them."<br/><br/>"<em>I</em>know why you do," the other, peach-haired nymph's voice was somewhat catty towards the first. "The stallions, anyway..."