<div class="floatright">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/4d/99/94/4d99941e1117b613fca2de1f3f6ccb56.jpg)</div>"We will simply have to try to find some fun," responds the blacksmith with a wide, confident grin as he moves Lorelei confidently through the bar.  It would be a rather difficult task, but between his height and obvious strength, he simply has to find ways to slip her between people and almost nobody ends up having to be shoved with elbows out of his path.  He gives a chuckle and an appreciative nod in Ayca's direction, then a raised eyebrow in... could that be challenge? invitation? towards Sydney.  But it seems from there that his attention is rightfully pulled back to his prize.<br/><br/>It is lucky the door wasn't properly latched before or Edmur may have taken it right off it's hinges with his quick, firm kick.  The door slams a bit harder than he may have intended as he carries Lorelei past the threshold, "Fine enough accom-" he begins to say, but then Lorelei is slipping out of his grasp.  After shutting, but not locking, the door, he chuckles and steps forward, swiping after her in faux attempts to catch her up.  "Trying to get away from me now?" his deep, gruff voice asks as he saunters forward into the room after her, pausing for just a moment to watch her as she steps out onto the balcony.  Edmur's appreciative grin only widens as he watches her slipping out of her clothing.  He steps forward slowly, placing a hand on the doorway in a manner that looks like it is just a large man aware that he needs to be careful to avoid breaking things, but also flexes his arm in a truly impressive way.<br/><br/>"A drink?" he asks in a thoughtful voice as he moves closer to the bard, stepping out onto the balcony proper.  "I've a terrible thrist, but I don't think it's for something that comes in a bottle."  His heavy, calloused, hot hand moves to her waist, that hand alone enough to pull her in closer to him.  Up close again she can smell his strong, masculine scent, some smoke from the forge, just a hint of sweat.  His other hand moves to the side of her neck, gently stroking up along it, touching her delicately, obviously concerned about breaking the fragile woman with him.  Then the blacksmith pulls her in closer, his hand drifting down along her bare back to stroke along her full, curved backside.  His thick fingers, meant for setting and working with metals, squeeze into her pale flesh, his body hard against her, especially a very obvious swell in the front of his pants, artfully hidden by carrying her above it, but in these close quarters not only visible, but pressed against Lorelei's stomach.