Ingrid
"Oh. I think I met your sister once," Ingrid said, still clearly oblivious. "I had no idea she ran a bar. It's good to know you stock a wide variety," she said, readjusting herself on the barrel. Then, she narrowed her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Zariah did what now?" she asked, looking quite caught-off-guard. People said a lot of things about Zariah, many of which weren't necessarily true, but this was a new one. "Hold on, I need..." Ingrid stopped to fish a notebook and a quill out of her bag. The notebook was worn, and the rachis of the feather in the quill was thoroughly stained with ink. "I need to start writing some of this shit down," she muttered. Just how many pieces had she lost?
