Common drinks and strange acquaintances

I R I S “I must say I’m surprised.” Iris was quick to tease. She leaned back in her seat and watched the Fae move about. When the long spear was deposited on the wall next to her, her gaze lingered. The sight of the sharp tip evoked the memory of her life essence coating it only hours prior. But, getting past the initial discomfort, Iris appreciated the weapon’s practicality. The cuts and bruises she’d earned by poking the hornet’s nest that now stood in front of her were covered by a fresh set of sleeves, and Iris was determined to put the event behind her. The question remained whether the butterfly was willing to do the same. She stood in front of her still, clearly refusing the seat offered to her. Iris had to wonder if she'd come in search of a rematch. If that turned out to be the case, Iris will have greatly regretted changing. She wasn’t keen on ruining another set of clothes. She raised an eyebrow at the woman’s question. ”About the breeding habits of snails, of course.” She jested, and then wondered if a race physically incapable of lying could appreciate sarcasm. Iris smiled anyway, ”No, I wanted to speak to you about… you. I’d never met a Fae before, and due to a series of circumstances,” namely, drunkenness, “I overreacted when I saw you. You, on the other hand, seemed entirely too tense when we met, even before any bottles were thrown. Not to mention that night is going to fall soon.” And all manner of people will show their true face. ”My suggestion is this: you teach me about your customs, and I’ll teach you about mine. Now, are you going to sit down, or stand there like a sentry?” Iris crossed her legs and nodded her head towards the vacant seat.