[BlueInTheShell]

Deadwaltz looked towards the healer who inched away from her and pouted, a childish cross of her arms and a shift side-eye the return prize for his actions. She bathed several days ago, and the only thing that kind of smelled was her cloak. What if he didn't like her? Nah, that was impossible. Everyone liked Deadwaltz. Even people who've never met her in her life. "Other seasonings. PFfft. Then yah gonna complain that they used too much of that too. Trying to cook food for you is impossible. I'm glad ah don't run a bar that you go to, Percy." Waltz said with a small, gleeful sneer as she wriggled in place. The barmaid conversation was one she was going to let die, if only because that was going to turn into competition the next time they were in town, and the last thing either of them needed was to see who could get into the pants of some noble faster. Nobility and one-night stands usually led to getting locked in the stocks for a day or two, and getting fruit thrown in your face while someone writes something like 'Diddler' or 'Sodomite' on your backside. "Ah know a lot of booksie types yeah. Not just you. Ah know Wisp over there, for one. And ah know another guy whose big into doing the metal-thing. Al-chuh-mee or whatever."

"Drinking buddies? I would figure you more than that. You seem like friends since childbirth." Wisp replied tartly, hugging herself and staring at the two with eyes that seemed more along the lines of violent inquisition than nosiness and curiosity. To say companionship like that was something she was jealous about was an understatement, but it would take torture most foul for the Dark Mage to -consider- admitting such a heresy. "Well, maybe she shied away from your company because you have a penis." Her note was blunt and to the point, but it was the only thing Wisp could think of when it came to Arabella. "I've travelled a few times with her and while she was always quiet, she was there to discuss things with people without your usual mode of operation of snarky one-liners and eye rolling." A small pause. "But still, to answer you? I think she is. Look at her company. Yourself. And as you've mentioned, Arabella is similar to you. Introverted. Scholarly. My only concern is if a halfling's body can endure being crushed by Northlander thighs without too much injury. Waltz is not a gentle lady."

Waltz of course was proving the dark mage's point true - The woman cleaving through some brush with her sword with a merry look on her face - Scratched from prickers and briar thorns doing nothing to slow her down while she wrought her own path through things. Stopping to nod at Percival, the woman looked in the direction Arabella had scampered to and beamed like a lunatic. "Wisp, do ah get to play with the dogs?" She howled, bouncing in place and then squealing with delight when the Dark Mage shrugged her shoulders and responded.

"There's plenty more hellhounds I can summon. Feel free."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


Whether it was past experience, or just forced courage - Christoval remained firm and stoic as the beast surrounded and circled him - the Knight's eyes darting back between the hellhound's tromping feet; to his surroundings, and then back to the creature once more to meet sunken, hellish eyes with icy cold blue hues that dared the beast to lunge forward. His sight caugh the familiar looking Halfling and Christoval wheeled himself and spun a knee to keep his shield between him and foe. "Kastivi is stuck in a tree. Worry about her first." Came the knight-to-be's response, before uttering a small prayer to the gods above for himself. "Go find her, I'm already doing my best at stalling this thing." Christoval pouted and bit his lips. He could kneel there, or he could take the initiative, and courage (And a bit of Waltz-esque stupidity) guided him - The Knight pushing on both his injured and normal feet and ankles to tackle himself into the hellhound, who fell onto it's side with a small yip as the two began to scuffle between themselves.