<div class="floatleft">(https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/002/442/653/large/oscar-acosta-rivera-noir-elf.jpg?1461787851)</div>Ingram's eyes flash to Kirion, a subtle smile playing at his lips. "A good point. Though not something you've come across by experience, I'm sure," he said, maybe with a marginal dose of cheek.<br/><br/>He reached forward, accepting the goblet of wine. He sniffed the contents, then drank. Disgustingly sweet, which shouldn’t surprise him. That was perhaps the greatest shortcoming of his race. Sure, elves may be wise, may be worldly, may be natural conduits of ancient power, but no attribute could compensate for the distasteful slosh they claimed to be a drink. An deep and irredeemable blot on their name. It made one envy the dwarves. But still, alcohol was alcohol, and taking out his flask seemed crass even for his standards.<br/><br/>“I’m here for the food, primarily. Though I’m also hoping there will be party favors. Maybe chocolates, or a trinket, or royal silverware, or Qaizel. I’m not picky.” He drank deeply and swallowed quickly. It was truly vile stuff. Maybe he could take a quick swig of his own stash. All he needed was to be drunk enough not to taste.<br/><br/>He observed his companions. A playboy, a priest, and a pauper walk into a palace. If nothing else, the night had been far more interesting than he had anticipated. And it wasn’t even over yet.<br/><br/>“How about you? What brings you to this…” He glanced around the room, “…<em>thrilling</em>event?”<br/>