Common drinks and strange acquaintances

I R I S "Your people are too easily offended." Iris scoffed as she leaned against her backrest. She glanced down her nose at the mug. "The hard stuff is served in small glasses, by the way." Her fingers went up to approximate the height of the glasses in question, showing no more than 7 centimeters. She'd been sipping these drinks for hours after all. They were sweet, cheap, and relatively mild. Just as she was about to take the Fae's estimation of her drinking capacity as a compliment, the butterfly proudly, and just a little too loudly, advised her to take action against her father. It was Iris' mistake. She shouldn't have mentioned her father at all, not to a stranger, no matter how cathartic it might have seemed. The Hanged Man was full of ears, and it wouldn't be the first time that some comment she'd made would make its way back into her house by means of spies, busybodies and sycophants. She had to react, although she'd hoped for the evening to go differently. Iris did her best to appear affronted. "For someone so easily offended, you don't shy away from handing out insults. We've had a nice go at stabbing each other earlier and I admit I also thought it brought us closer." She placed her hand on her heart in a placating gesture. "But you greatly overstep in thinking there's any confrontation to be had. Drop the matter." Iris fixed the long, flowing sleeves of her shirt, there to cover up the equally long cut she'd received that morning, and sat up from the table. "Now, we should complete our little bet," she said abruptly, leaving little room for a reply on the matter of her family business. "Barkeep can mark up the points. We can pin the board on the wall and have a go at it from the far side of the bar."