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Message: <blockquote data-quote="H.M.Gimlord" data-source="post: 6404192" data-attributes="member: 79440">Mikara is too drunk, at this point to give an intelligent answer.  She lolls her head in the direction of the voice and thinks she's hallucinating when she only sees a tree poking through the window.Shhhhhh....Threeth aren't thuppothed to talk like that.  What would you do if... her eyes widen and adrenalin provides her with a fleeting half-moment of sobriety as she sees the stone face glinting in the moonlight.  Whoah! OK, tho maybe you're not jutht an ordinary three.  Thorry to dithturb you.  I'll thee that it dothn't hhhhappen again.With that, as if in proof of her statement, but more likely as a result of the 128oz of well-aged ale, her forehead drops to the table with a muted thud that nevertheless rings throughout the empty common room.Mikara is barely conscious when Raiyek extends his hand in greeting.  Mikara eases open her eyes, and with her forehead still planted on the table, rolls them up toward the other elf.  Raiyek's elven form gives her a little energy, more out of embarrassment than out of joy or hope.  She pushes herself up to a sitting position at the table, revealing a gray ring where her sweat had cemented the dust from the table to her forehead.  She slumps forward, sleepily resting her chin in the palm of her left hand and extending the right to accept Raiyek's, but the alcohol was a little more potent than expected.  Her hand misses Raiyek's by about 14 inches and, lacking the expected support, drops to the table, thudding and scattering dust everywhere. Yeah.  Mikara li Mathadh, pleathed to meet you. Evidently unaware that her handshake has missed its mark, Mikara leans back in a reclining position, though there is no back to stool on which she sits, and balanced on the edge of physics, spreads her hands in a welcoming gesture as if inviting the elf into her home.  She looks around sleepily, obliviously,  sarcastically, C'home on in!  Hhhhave a theat! Hhhhave a jrink! She hefts one of the mugs, the weight of which indicates that it is empty.  She upends the mug, testing her theory and proving it to be true.  She smiles sheepishly to Raiyek, and lifts a finger with all the dexterity of a sapling in a hurricane, Hhhhang on. She reaches under the table and produces the jug.  There is only enough ale left to fill the mug a quarter of the way, but she pours anyway and pushes the nearly empty mug to the other side of the table.  She pats the table next to the mug, sending dust flying, Come, thit with me and 'member the old dayth.  Don' worry.  There'th nobody here...'thept him.  She lazily points to the tree with the stone face, then pulls her hand back shielding her voice from the tree with an outwardly directed, open palm, I jutht woke'm up, tho don' thpeak too loud.</blockquote>

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