<div class="floatleft">(https://78.media.tumblr.com/a74199b532055822b328615f5c5652af/tumblr_p192q1Bp6b1tk4029o1_1280.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Lily (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1432421)</strong></span><br/>Tiefling Rogue 1<br/><strong>Location:</strong>beer booth<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Bard, open<br/><hr/>The booth's owner passing her over for more important custom didn't phase her in the least; she<em>did</em>look the armored fellow over briefly, checking for loose purse strings, ill-fitting rings, other potential easy-to-grab valuables. Force of habit, really. "Just stale?" She swished the cup of liquid, checking its fragrance, then shrugged and took a drink, holding the mug with both hands. "I was told there would be fairies, or something like that, and then some old lady told me I was doomed, and it cost me money which was stupid 'cause I already<em>knew that</em>, so it was my fault for asking, then a drunk guy nearly fell on me and now I have thus mug and I think someone took spitshine too literally with it, but, hey. Booze." Another swallow. "And that's how the festival is going for me." Her eyes followed the barman's to the youths, and sniffed, whispering hoarsely to him. "Those pikers up to something? Or do you uhm, er, just fancy one of 'em?" She... sounded totally serious, actually. "The tall one's prolly hung like a Heddenburg donkey... I<em>could</em>play messenger for a silver if y've got any lovelorn notes you wanna pass along...?"<br/><br/>She trailed off as the post was erected. She knew there was a good joke to be made there somewhere, but by the time the phrasing came to mind and she opened her mouth to say it, the timing was all wrong. So she let her jaw dangle for a moment before finally draining her mug and passing it back to Bard, careful to not let their hands touch. "Here, you can keep this! What's with the kingdom's saddest maypole there?"