Common drinks and strange acquaintances

I R I S Iris raised en eyebrow at her over the edge of her mug. "Maybe the swill you drink out in the woods," she claimed, tone light but broaching on offended as she took a swig of the Fae's drink. "Torchline liquor is medicine." A beat later her demeanor shifted to interst. "What do you use to clean wounds?" The question on conflict had her offering a smile. She wouldn't have survived for this long if she'd shied away from it. "Conflict is the natural path to a resolution." She set the mug down, lining its edges with a finger. "That's why it's important to pick your battles, lest you get saddled with unfavorable outcomes." Did Iris' tongue stumble over the pretentious wording? Yes. A smile tugged at her lips at the spark of interest she caught in the Fae. Her voice lowered as she leaned forward on her uninjured arm. "I'll point you in the right direction... if you win." She nodded towards the short end of the bar. Leaned against it was a decommissioned dartboard, its paint weathered from use. "Let's see how skilled you are with a dagger. You get three throws, as close to the center ring as you can manage. I'll do the same. If I win, you give me that pretty dagger." Iris' eyes flickered back to the obsidian blade.