Marla the Barmaid[section]
Marla seems rather interested how Brandon had helped Grog's meal be more appetizing.
"Oh, made it better, that's awful nice of you," she begins, looking over at his plate as the grizzled veteran lifts up the small carcass for inspection, steaming with the heat. He flashes the barmaid a big smirk as her eyes grow wide.
"Disgusting!" the barmaid blurts out. She looks at Brandon, then back to Grog, who merely shrugs.
"You didn't cook that…" Red with anger, Marla storms back to the kitchen, shouting,
"Zitteaux, don't play coy with me, I know you cooked Grog's dish!" The door swings closed muffling the chef's response, but it's obvious he's not about to get shouted down by a barmaid as he barks back in his heavily accented Landellian tongue, making his origin in one of the lower baronies obvious.[/section]
Grog the Bartender[section]
Any hope of understanding the exact words exchanged between Zitteaux and Marla are dashed as the bartender bursts out into boisterous laughter. One large, meaty fist pounds on the bar as his eyes tear up.
"Dat better than I hoped!" Grog eventually manages to get out.
"Marla real steamed now, more dan food!"
By the time Grog settles down, the yelling in the back has largely subsided. Somewhat recomposed, he tears a large portion of flesh off the carcass and chews, obviously enjoying it.
"So den… work," Grog begins.
"Lots of jobs, even fer, uh…" he thinks a moment,
"beginners. Well den, three groups got hired just a while ago. Comes in spurts dat way."
[/section]