<table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><br/><br/><br/><br/>(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/1/16/Fallon.jpg)</td><td>Having learned that the drinks are, as the barman told Jo, truly 'on the house,' Fallon will go back for mead at least twice more this evening.  Seeming encouraged by Koram's earnest compliments earlier, she dances with abandon, laughs loudly at jokes, sings along with raucous songs-- behaving, it would seem, in any fashion necessary in order to draw the attention of as many high-spirited patrons to herself as possible.  Short of dancing on the tabletops, that is.<br/><br/>As the crowd thins out, however, she settles in at the bar to recuperate from a solid hour of dancing and singing.  Sitting down for the first moment in an hour, her coppery skin glistens with the faintest mist of clean sweat and her breasts rise and fall rapidly as she recovers.  Her breath echoes in her cup as she sips from it, then she eyes the room-- Koram's out in the streets, she realizes.  She hopes the puppy's alright... well, she hopes Koram's alright, rather.  Such a sweet fellow...<br/><br/>Remembering the morning's purpose, she sighs heavily and swirls the last of the amber mead in its cup.  "Well... here's to those who won't make the trip home."  She still smiles, though the gravity of the mission ahead seeps in and turns her smile from giddy to wistful.  "And to finding a bed for the night," she adds in afterthought and pours back the rest of the honey wine.<br/><br/>Heaving up her armor, her rucksack, her hammer and shirt from the barkeep's trusty hands, she places the last of her coppers on the bar top and heads for the stairs.  <br/><br/>Without consideration of consequence, she taps at the first door of her companions' block.  She's no clue whose room it is, and so long as it's a friend, she doesn't care.</td></tr></tbody></table>