The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
The topic drifts to Torchline, to the Kraai, to lighter things that are important without being heavy. She takes another drags of the cigarette, feeling content and lazy in that moment, warmed by the fire and the booze coursing through her veins. ”You cannot keep yourself out of trouble, can you?” she says, voice deep, amused, herself in so many ways. ”And what is it you will be doing for Torchline’s government?”
At his teasing, she winks back, letting go of the glass to gesture vaguely at herself and then around the place. ”You tell me,” she says, tone playful. She looks at home, though. The place feels like home. It is designed to feel like everything you want in a tavern of Snowcloak. It is warm and cozy, dark and secret. It is the type of place that lures you in and keeps you there, or at least, keeps you coming back for more. ”Thank you,” she adds, a bit more seriously.
At his teasing, she winks back, letting go of the glass to gesture vaguely at herself and then around the place. ”You tell me,” she says, tone playful. She looks at home, though. The place feels like home. It is designed to feel like everything you want in a tavern of Snowcloak. It is warm and cozy, dark and secret. It is the type of place that lures you in and keeps you there, or at least, keeps you coming back for more. ”Thank you,” she adds, a bit more seriously.
Weaver
