A storm of gourds

Hadama didn't smile, but his lips may have twitched as he kept his eyes to the sky for a little while longer. Talk of the brothel finally brought him back down to earth and refocused his attention on the man beside him, who combined earthy sentiments with lofty ambitions. The Tidebreaker was intrigued in spite of himself as they spoke of the potential business possibilities inherent in Danta's endeavor.

Green eyes crinkled a little at the edges as Hadama considered the question. "Hmm. No, but I would enjoy a drink at the bar." The idea of other people touching his legs was one that, oddly, hadn't really come up before and now that it had the merman found himself rather protective of his occasional appendages. "And learning more about your people. And your goddess." Torchline's newest residents had been well-behaved but Hadama was still curious about them, and the mysterious lost goddess they worshipped.

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

"A drink at the bar is even better, because that's already set up. No extra installation needed." Though a considerable restock might be in order before Danta is in a position to host Hadama and his legs at his new venture. "Well, then," he says over a purr of thunder, "perhaps you'll see me, my people and my goddess at the bar the next time you find yourself in the area."

For now, though, it looks as though the storms are being accompanied by some torrential rain, Danta able to spy it on the horizon like a falling blanket. Wrinkling his nose, he offers a brief nod to Hadama, though he's already starting to retreat to make his exit. "Well," he mutters, "best of luck with your storm watch."

Dantalion