Sensing the emotions along the road to Bobby Bard's, Jhary O Connah wheeled about, in both mind and body, turning to look quickly at the faces of his companions then back at the ragged half-elf.
He made eye contact that almost stated "I'm sorry, mate" but continued: "Apologies, Sir Luis... Your angle seems all wrong... I don't think any of US is fooled... Don't think you can pull the wool over OUR eyes...WE don't buy, sir..."
The little white mouse scurried out of the halfling's pocket and onto his head, into his curly mound of hair.
The hobbit paced about with his hands on his hips, stopping near the dwarf cleric.
He was intentionally ignoring Dorana's accusations, trying to play up his own rightfulness among the party. Jhary tried to do a scoffing, incredulous sort of laugh.
His enthusiasm faded fast. He kept forcing a smile and stare. The little mouse on his head squeaked almost too loudly.
"Shall we tie him to the tree?" He didn't actually stop to listen to Dorana's reaction, instead grabbing at the carefully wound rope attached to the dwarf's belt.
He braced, waiting for everything to go to hell.