Drathe and Kaelyn.
Lovely night and Roscoe will miss you both when he goes home.
I'll always have my memory of the night though:
'Drathe': (( um... how do I explain that? he came out of the cooking pot? O_o ))
Kaelyn: (( In a shower of confetti and glitter. ))
'Drathe': (( let me try that again, hold on...))
Roscoe: ((Epic. It's amazing what can be cooked nowadays))
Kaelyn: (( Fits him perfectly. ))
Kaelyn: (( *Dies* ))
'Drathe': She asked me to marry her, it would have been rather rude to just hand it back, don't you think?
'Drathe' 's eyes widen, brow rising over an amused grin.
Kaelyn slowly arches a brow up at that, a look of utter bemusement passing over her face.
Kaelyn: Mmh, I must have bent the knee while three bottles deep then.
'Drathe' snorts a laugh at her, a flash of bright eyes too.
Kaelyn: Though if -I- asked for -your- hand, would that make your last name Ianale?
Kaelyn poses the question in seemingly honest curiosity, her brows coming together as she muses over it.
Roscoe: Hmm. Maybe Mister Drathe is the woman of the household?
'Drathe': You know, *he points the finger of the proping arm at her, hand bending at the wrist.* That aint such a bad idea, might even void those warrents for me in Falmarah.
Roscoe looks between the pair questioningly
Kaelyn: Maybe... It'd be believable that he wears the skirts between us.
Kaelyn then cuts a look back to Drathe, narrowing one eye in a mocking look of uncertainty.
'Drathe': Ah to be a kept woman *he looks up as if in hope at the gods.*
'Drathe': What a life of ease and pleasure.
Kaelyn glances back to Roscoe with a bit of a wink as she speaks lightly.
'Drathe': ..or maybe a hellbriar lot of running then. *His look flicks back to the Desert woman.*
Roscoe: Don't Albarian humans chain their women to the bedroom?
Roscoe looks between the two again
Kaelyn: I could hire you to be our personal alchemist so that he may always have his lotions to keep himself pretty.
'Drathe': Another dream smashed before its time.
Kaelyn: As for Albarians..
Kaelyn: I'd rather not discuss them.
Kaelyn speaks the last flatly, her voice dripping with poorly-cloaked distaste.
Roscoe: Of course not. I feel that way secretly about some Halfling clans
Kaelyn: (( Okay, brb. You two got me laughing too hard earlier ))
'Drathe' chuckles softy, amused at the pair of them and the good humour of their jesting even if at his expense.
'Drathe': So Roscoe, can I call you Ros, of course I can! *He contines without waiting for answer.* How goes those ointments and lotions for the laides?
Kaelyn: (( Back ))
'Drathe' uprights, letting the boot slip from its perch on the log. 'Will make you a rich man!'