The bartender chuckled as he took Shay's abandoned glass and tipped its remaining contents back into the bottle, wasting not a single drop. "This be Spellfyre Brandy, lass. It's a dark elven export, and a wee bit of an acquired taste." He leaned in conspiratorially and continued in a whisper. "They say that drow priestesses drink this to grow a cock to deflower their virgin sacrifices. But that's probably jus a rumour," he shrugged.<br/><br/>The good news, when Shay got back to her room at the Paladin's Rest - where a charming smile to the young lad now working the receptionist's counter, who bore a filial resemblance to the older woman with the password, would give the thief the location of Jasmine's room on the second floor - was that she was showing no signs of being poisoned (other than being slightly tipsy from its alcoholic content) from the suspicious blue beverage or growing a male member. The bad news was that Yewbough was not present, and the room hadn't been disturbed since apparently a maid came in tidied the place up while she was gone, so he hadn't come back earlier and left again either.