<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>Name:</strong> Clay Mephlas<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Back Room of the Underworld Tavern<br/><strong>Time:</strong> Midday (ish)<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> All<br/><br/>He took the drink from the overly muscular man who looked like he could probably snap anyone he wanted in two with little effort, and drank some of it down while listening to everyone talk. "I'm not too partial..." he began to say as the one woman took up one of the coins and spun it in her palm "about touching these either." The last half of his sentence having a rather sour tone to match the expression on his face. What the hell was she talking about, what they were going to do anyway? Sighing, he put his hand to his head, not so much for pain but for lack of memory. <br/><br/>Cracking his neck and back in one fluid motion as he leaned back into the chair, looking down at the coin closest to him, he watched as the other woman spoke. "Faerie king? Sounds fruity...no offense" as he looked at the other two, his tone dripping with faux sympathy. His eyes watched as she headed out into the main room and came back with a large glass of water. That seemed a touch better than whatever the other guy had slipped him, and Clay stood and headed out there himself to find another glass and pour his own drink. Gulping a whole glass down once he found one, he filled it again and came back into the room, this time leaning up against the wall near the entrance. <br/><br/>"Does anyone actually remember what the hell we talked about doing, because I'm of the mind to not touch one of these coins that could be hexed or cursed or draw you into some unholy contract with who knows what unless I know what I'm getting into. Or remember what I may possibly have already agreed to anyways."</span></span>