The closer he leans into Weaver, and the closer she also leans, the broader his crooked smile becomes. "Yeah, well, I've heard." He winked at her, ever so slight and quick, and leaned back again. He turned his body ion his stool to face her broad on, rather than sit beside her. He leaned on an elbow against the bar, and motioned to the tender for another drink. The bartender handed it to him without argument, and without sticking his own hand out, all in favor of the several hares Ezekiel had brought in last week.
"Okay, there it is then. I won't need your storehouse if I am too drunk off my ass to remember I need to eat." He drinks from his new mug. "But only if you run the place." He takes another big gulp of the new mug of ale, leaving less than a third of the foamy, piss-poor drink in the bottom. Standing, Noah straightened his clothes and cocked his head over toward the door which led to the all-too-bright outside. "But today is not my day for drunkenness."
