RP:The Wolf, The Rockstar, The Engineer, and The Alchemist

Summary: Ansel, Josleen, Hudson and Alvina all head to the Frostmaw Tavern for a spot of fun after Hudson's Kickball game! Josleen puts on a wonderful performance while the other three look on and chit chat at the bar...until Ansel's served up the most questionable drink in the history and things get a little crazy.

Frostmaw Tavern

Josleen hasn’t performed at Frostmaw Tavern since the last war. With no audience to perform for, her fingers have busied themselves on invisible chords on any surface she comes in contact with, even on patient’s bodies as she rubs ointments on bruised skin. Finally she asked Drargon for a gig, and well-remembered from the last war a little over a year ago, she earned a spot quickly. At the clinic she made sure to inform her colleagues, though she waited a whole day and a morning, until her shift and Ansel’s over-lapped, to do so. Normally performers mingle with guests before a set, but an evening of fussing over her dress, make-up and hair, an evening of second-guessing the tastes of a man she hardly knows, made her fashionably late. Her band mates have arrived already and set up on the small stage by the fire (a raised wooden platform, unassuming and a tripping hazard), and thus Josleen took her place front and center as main vocalist, as well as fiddler, flutist, and occasional tambourinist. All the musicians, save the drummer, boast two or more instruments scattered around their chairs. Unless you count the triangle as the drummer’s second instrument, in which case, him too. Budget band! The roaring fire and the crowd’s heat make the tavern uncomfortably hot for anyone in winter wear, and it takes Josleen a good minute to remove the layers on layers of clothing she typically wears in Frostmaw – though she forewent the hat today out of consideration of her braid swept over her right shoulder, opposite her fiddle, painstakingly styled to look effortless and hasty. The I-don’t-try-hard look of try-hards. The dress-that-took-an-hour-to-select is deep blue, velour and form-fitting for some performance spice, but knee-length, sleeved, and free-falling from the hips. It is sure to disappoint leering men, until she turns around and exposes a little skin, upper back, nothing too risqué or drab.

The set starts lively and loud to inspire bodies into motion, and hearts into higher spirits. She scans the crowd for Ansel without being obvious about it, and if she finds him, sends him a smile over her fiddle. The first set plays for 10 songs without a break, and they oscillate between local favorites, belting songs for drunken singers, one slow jam (triangle guy is on it), and frenetic crowd pleasers. Alvina should beware during the slow jam, for all pubs attract a minimum of one total creeper. Frostmaw Tavern’s creeper-in-resident is a furry (a feline, if you’re going to be politically correct about it), who is a cross between a black-and-white tuxedo cat and a “man” (term generously applied). His name is Chester, and ladies who frequent the pub have awarded him the moniker Chester the Molester. He’s always handsy, but slow jams inspire wandering paws that somehow face outwards at bum-level as he skirts past any attractive young lady in the crowd. You can be sure that if Alvina puts in an appearance, Chester the Molester will work his way towards her, and the only thing worse than being groped in a crowd by the Molester is to accidentally make eye contact. His smarmy look and knowing grin are somehow worse, dirtier. The final song just so happens to be Hudson’s favorite song of all time. Whoa! Wait for that bass to drop, it’s coming, just wait for it.

Ansel lived in the tavern temporarily, so this was not a hassle to show up at all. He made sure he was a little late. Being one of the first one’s there was considered “uncool” and well, he hated the attention. The kids were out of the tavern, thankfully. He let the caretaker take them away from the tavern that would slowly start to be filled with tipsy patrons over time. He knew how taverns worked, well, he was one of those guys who sat there for hours on end, once upon a time. Now, he lived in one – temporarily. There was a bit of a crowd forming, which drew Ansel in finally. He would weave through the people before finding his place at a nearby barstool on the side of the tavern, slightly near the back, but not too far away. That would just be rude. Especially when –she- was performing. This was madness, not only had they not conversed, besides the casual ‘how are you’ and medical stuff, but all he could really think about is the woman. Almost sickening. He felt like a teenager all over again, waiting for her next move before he made his own. He liked taking turns. He thought this was only fair.

The man finally did not have his winter clothes on, in fact, he had a semi-formal attire on. Not too fancy, but not too casual either. He had a tucked in navy blue, button up, dress shirt that had sleeves that were pushed up to his elbows, and a pair of tan, almost khaki but not quite, pants with a belt looped around them for a nice fit. The music was a good cool down from a long day, and well, he did not mind watching Josleen take the stage (especially in that blue dress, ‘ow-ow!’ but that was a different topic). As she would catch his eye and smile towards him, he would play ‘Mr. Cool’ and extend his hand with a glass of whisky, making a cheering motion before setting the glass to his lips. He was very cautious, drinking the glass at a small pace. The last thing Ansel needed to do was get drunk and try to poke Chester the Molester over in the corner for trying to bother a pretty lady and make a complete clown out of himself in front of Josleen, who was actually the ‘pretty lady’ he truly cared for. As for Alvina and Hudson, if he would see either one out of the corner of his eye, he would give either a slight wave out of friendliness, and maybe perhaps join them at a moment in time, who knew. Let’s just see where the night takes them.

Hudson had let Alvina know he'd be here. His kickball league had had a game, you see, against the Frostmaw Giants. His team had taken a beating, which isn't surprising when you consider that they were literally playing giants. Huds had accurately predicted the relatively quick loss, and so he's just settling in with a beer when he spots Josleen performing. He vaguely recalls her as the pretty nurse who liked to gossip about lesbians - it had been a memorable conversation - and he waves at her as he weaves through the throngs of people in search of Alvina. Excellent song choice by Josleen. This is his jam. It's too bad Alvina isn't around. They could be throwing some shapes! Instead he finds Ansel, who may well be dead to the world as Josleen is the Entertainment. Huds traces the line of the other man's gaze to her and slices a hand out in front of him. "Yo. Ansel. I can introduce you, you know," he says, "She's pretty cool. Seems single, she travels in a pack of women." His free hand comes up in a thumbs up, as Hudson's gaze catches like a snag on the movement of Chester the Molester. "Somebody should talk to that guy," he says, likely foreshadowing a future action on his part. In the meantime, he drinks from his beer. "I'm going to sit with you. Don't worry," he announces, sinking into one of the free chairs at Ansel's table, not the one next to him. There's an unspoken game plan here. That seat's for Josleen. Her set would be over soon. Hudson, for his part, is quick to ask, "Have you seen Alvina here? We're supposed to meet."

Alvina arrived to the tavern later than everyone else, or so it seemed as she shuffled her way through throngs of bodies caught in the bass dropping and pelvic rhythms that tend to be termed as "dancing". Alvina did not recall seeing the performers before, but she felt less radiant than the vision in blue valour, hitting notes with instrument and voice while holding up such an confident and warm aura. It blossomed in waves off the female, and caught Alvina's affection just a bit too long before she spies Hudson and Ansel near the bar. Excited, she lifts herself up on her tip toes to snag their attention when she feels an unwelcome touch on her bum by one Chester. Spinning around she eyes the feline carefully before wagging her finger in compete disapproval. Her lips move frantically in scolding that is drowned out by the band. The Molester seemed taken aback by her quick response and flattens his ears to his skull in visible remorse for choosing such a mouthy female to mess with. Eventually she finds her way to the bar with a rather cross look about her face. "Can you believe that guy?" She huffs, before smiling at the two gentleman before her. "So sorry I'm late," she says to Hudson, "I heard about the game too."Her metal palm presses against his upper arm in condolences. "How are you Ansel? How is the clinic work going?" She have him a friendly smile before sitting next to Hudson and leaning close so the three could converse. She catches the wolf eyeing the lead singer and smiles. "She's gorgeous," the bard says, leaning into Hudson ever so slightly.

Josleen flashes Hudson a smile that's more recognition than hello. They've only met the one time, but gossiping about local dignitaries has a way of making fast friends out of strangers. Alvina's prolonged attention on Josleen inspires a duo in the corner to begin their own secret lesbian rumors, and so the carousel of gossip goes round and round. These new gossipers look a little like knock-off Josleen and Hudson too. Maybe there's a type there. The set concludes on a belted lyric underscored by a rattling tambourine. Half the pub knows the lyric and join in, butchering it as crowds are wont to do, but Josleen loves it. She leaves the stage on a performer's high, slightly flushed and smiling broadly. Ansel picked a spot far from the stage, and while Josleen does her very best to reach him and the others quickly, she's buffeted by the crowd. Hello's, and Long time no see's, and Thank you's keep her from her target. For some strange reason it's always the men who insist on an oh-so-innocuous hug by way of saying hello. Finally, over-hugged/mauled, she reaches them with color in her cheeks and spirits that make her seem taller than she is. "Hi, hey, Ansel." She's breathless from the performance, the people, him. Her gaze lingers on him as she debates a hug or not, but social decorum demands she greet the others before she has a chance to decide. "And Huds, Hi." Then to Alvina, she extends a hand, "I'm Josleen. You can call me Jos." ("See how they pretend to be just friends? With the handshake? Total tell of secret lesbians." - things gossip mongers are saying some tables away) "I only have a few minutes, then one more set," she explains for Ansel's benefit. Then more to herself, as she searches the bar for a bartender, "I am so thirsty." Inexplicably she laughs, like a teenage girl nervous before a boy. She pushes onto her tip toes and tries to peer over the bar for attention, but the crowd is thick and she's too short to make a blip in Drargon's periphery.

So Ansel was google-eyed, and as Hudson would make his way to the man, Ansel would snap out of this little trance before focusing his attention on the man before him who was waving his hand. Introduce him? He would narrow his gaze and shake his head. “No, no, I know her—Josleen. Cool, right,” he agreed vaguely, he was trying to keep himself together before glancing over at Josleen again. The tambourine echoing through his ears, he was tapping his fingers against the table idly before shifting eyes towards the feline. “He’s interesting, to say the least,” he then watched as the man sat down a seat over, leaving an open space between them. He got the hint. He then looked around the establishment before shaking his head. “No, sorry, Huds. I’ll keep my eye out,” and moments later, eyes fell on Chester as he was feeling up a red head with a metal arm. Alvina. She made it! Ansel would almost stand before Alvina takes care of herself and as she greets him, he nods. “Not too shabby,” he would reply. He would then let his hazel gaze trail towards the music. “Work is… great. Never know what is going to happen next,” and as Alvina compliments the woman on the stage he leans back into his relaxed state. He was so obvious. Like a puppy. Only a wolf. As Josleen makes her way through the crowd, he looks around, he did not want to look eager, so he conversed idly with the two before him. As Josleen approaches, he turns his head towards her direction and a calm, “Hey,” exits his mouth. Don’t be obvious, don’t be obvious. As she greets the other two, he throws a compliment. “You loo-did great!” He almost cringed. What? What? Ansel… what?! He then rises and steps near her towards the bar. “Here, let me...” He would then begin to wave to Drargon to catch his attention. While waiting, he would eye her again, slightly sad that she would have to perform again.

Hudson's gaze seems to hit on Alvina's interaction with Chester at the same time as Ansel's does. "There she..." he doesn't quite get the words out, and the recognition stamped on his face quickly bleeds into irritation. He stands, about to approach, when Alvina pushes her way to them, the hackles raised in her expression. "Alvina, no worries, hey, you OK?" he kisses her on the cheek like an afterthought, his gaze behind her on the feline aggressor even as she and Ansel exchange pleasantries. He says a few words about the whooping the team had taken at the hand of the Giants. Such a short game he had had time to shower. He feels no need to clarify his relationship with Alvina to Ansel. They were dudes together; such things were communicated in the subtle language of possessive touches. But not so with women, and so he removes his arm from around Alvina as Josleen approaches. "Hey Josleen," he nods, gesturing with his now freed hand to Alvina. "This is my friend Alvina." He scratches at his face in the way of a man who hopes he hasn't stepped in anything. "Alvina this is Josleen." A beat. "Let me get some drinks," he volunteers at the same time as Ansel. Hudson elbows Ansel's chest before the other guy gets carried away. "I got it, I got it, you guys hang out with Josleen on her break," he says, flashing the group the plastic grin of a wingman. He touches Alvina on the shoulder, declaring, "I'll get you guys some rose," before he begins to push through the bar. Hudson is slightly motivated by self-interest here: he comes into contact with Chester, and the two are seen exchanging words. It's a brusque nonviolent affair that leaves Chester's ears flat to his head. He slinks slightly away. Message received. Hudson, as we know, is a big guy, so he has no trouble getting the bartender's attention. He orders a bottle of rose and a pitcher of beer, and returns to the group feeling much like he's kicked it over the fence in Cenril Field. He even manages to set everything down on the table without incident.

Alvina chuckles at Ansel's realization before patting his shoulder lightly. "It's okay love," she laughs, teasing him about thirty first encounter just before Josleen heads in their direction from the stage. When the woman is introduced (by both herself and Hudson) the bard takes her hand with a small bow ("that's how you know they have that special chemistry, instead of being regular ladies." Gossips the onlooker in the corner). "Ah, yes. A pleasure. Wonderful performance. I'm envious of your talent and wardrobe. Alvina, by the way." She grins at the woman before watching Hudson leave to gather drinks. Without being rude, the bard does her best to not stare at Hudson as he makes his way to Chester and has a more aggressive but likely similar word with him. It makes her feel fuzzy and warm, so she blushes before staring back at the two relative strangers in front of her. "How did you two meet?" She asks Ansel and Jos, suppressing a suggestive tone with her spirited grin. When Hudson finally returns without dropping the drinks, she takes the rose if he managed to find it and sips it thankfully. "It's not as good as yours," she remarks, still blushing at the alchemist.

The way Ansel trips over a compliment makes the butterflies rise in her in a way she’s missed in the past year. She can’t help but grin into her hand, trying not to laugh for his sake, but too thrilled by the effect they have on each other to keep from smiling. She bumps her side into his and returns the compliment with a sweeping look that appreciates his appearance tonight, her gaze lingering on his longer than is prudent in present company. She shouts after Hudson, “Mead please!” Then she’s left with Ansel and Alvina, whom Josleen is sure is perfectly pleasant, but right now all she wants is to be alone with Ansel; but no such luck at a crowded bar. Alvina’s question suggests a relationship that isn’t there, and which Josleen should deny, but she won’t. It’s too fun to pretend. “At work. At the clinic.” Normally Josleen would chase Alvina’s question with small talk of her own, but right now she’s too distracted by the heat at her side. An awkward silence settles, and it prompts her to ask with disinterest, “And how did you meet Hudson?” Though her attention should remain fixed on Alvina, it flickers to Ansel frequently. Just as Hudson sets the drinks on the table, mead too, a frost giant a few tables over shouts a greeting at Josleen. He travels in a multi-racial pack (two giants, a dwarf, an elf, and a human), and they are all dressed in workman’s clothes and soot – engineers from the fort, and looking sloshed already. Josleen recognizes them all and takes a sizable step away from Ansel as she waves back to the giant, and shouts “Tergon! Hi!” She turns back, no longer smiling and looking flustered instead. "Didn't know you were a winemaker, Hudson," she says way too fast and into her mug just before she downs half its content in one long drink to drown out whatever noise the engineers brought with them. Suddenly she’s not stealing looks at Ansel anymore. Let the trio dominate the conversation. She makes small sounds when appropriate ("Aha." "Is that so?") For the most part she lets the clock run on her break. The drummer on the stage bangs out a quick rhythm. “That’s my cue.” She finishes her mead quickly then tries to signal for a waitress quickly before she absolutely must go back to the stage. She taps her mug, then the stage, and mouths to the waitress “A pitcher.”

Ansel backs down as Hudson plays wingman, which Ansel does not mind one bit, knowing that Josleen only had little time for interaction. He would slink back, standing near the woman and he smirks as Josleen bumps into him as he stumbles back on one foot before keeping his balance again. Ansel would drink whatever Hudson brought back to the table. Alvina’s question threw him off guard, though he did not show this, instead he had a flat expression – his usual calming appearance – his only façade. Hazel eyes linger over to the woman next to him who replies proudly, and he gives off one of those crooked wolfish smiles, well, he enjoyed this. “She’s feisty, got my attention,” and as the drinks would come along, he would raise his glass up before taking a sip before resting a warm callused hand on Josleen’s back idly. He would play along, Ansel was not always serious, though he always took a while to loosen up. Perhaps… a couple more drinks. He waits for Alvina’s reply, only for the multi-racial pack to interrupt the mingling going on. As Josleen waves, Ansel has an amused look on his face, eyebrows raised, and as Josleen turns her smile upside down, he cannot help but to smirk within his drink to hide his laughter. After that, Josleen was short, and he did not know why, but he would continue the conversation anyway, he knew Alvina and Hudson always had a load to say. They were not as awkward as Ansel. Then the drums… Her cue. “Right,” why did he not say more?! Oh well, he would then give her a little helping push through the crowd after she received whatever pitcher that was served before turning his back towards her, making his way to Hudson and Alvina again. Waiting for whatever songs would play again.

Hudson totally also procured mead; by the magic of RP, his previous actions are adjusted to account for Josleen's beverage of choice. He grins at the compliment Alvina pays him, his eyebrows lifting in response to Josleen's question. "Not so much winemaker so much as piss poor alchemist," he says with a self-deprecating wince as he lowers himself into the chair beside Alvina and drapes an arm over the back of her chair. He lets her answer Josleen (presumably she does), and then he uses the pause occasioned by the appearance of Josleen's beefy friends, to lean close and whisper to Alvina, "I talked to that guy. You're OK?" Like an FYI, more than any invitation to discuss his likely bodily-harm threatening of Chester the Molester. Hudson, mostly competent observer of people, allows the pendulum of his gaze in the meantime to swing over to Tergon and friends, and then back to Ansel. Things take a turn after that, don't they? Hudson tries to keep the conversation light, involving of all, and so he makes a pitch (yes, pun intended) for Alvina and Josleen to watch one of the kickball games, and for Ansel to join the league. It's really fun. Mostly they lose games and hang out as friends and have a few beers. Plenty of people come watch. Alvina and Josleen should come cheer. It's very social. And so along those lines goes Hudson's contribution to the conversation. Cue the beating of the drum that announces Josleen's act. Hudson watches as Ansel totally FUMBLES, and Josleen begins to make her way through the sea of people, Ansel making an assist. It's still kind of a lukewarm assist, thinks Hudson, probably because Josleen just went totally cold for no apparent reason. As Josleen's performance begins to ramp up, people begin to stand, and so in all likelihood does their table. Huds, who is tall, invites Alvina to stand in front of him to see better, and he wraps an arm about her waist like they're at a rock concert and proceeds to hold a discussion literally behind her back with Ansel about why Josleen is being so weird all of a sudden. Hudson comments that he hopes for Ansel's sake that the gigantic frost giant is NOT an ex-boyfriend of Josleen's, and he shares a rather hard-eyed look with Ansel as he says so. (Because, Once you go frost giant...??????) He then suggests rather helpfully that perhaps the frost giant is a coworker, and she's just being weird, after all, sometimes people are weird in co-worker situations. His gaze slides a little Alvina's way, at that. At the end of the day, this Josleen Weirdness Summit does not last the entirety of Josleen's performance, and there's also, as one might expect, a bit of belting out the choruses to the more famous, well-known tunes, throwing shapes in place, and cheering in general.

Alvina looked at Ansel a inwardly directed knowing smile at his response, and nodded. “That’s how they get you.” She was then poised to answer the question that Josleen posed when she turned to the Frost Giant. The bard’s mouth, which had just opened to explain their adorable introduction as coworkers that turned romantic and now they were…what had Hudson used in his introduction…friends? It seemed better to just throw a, “Oh well…um..We met through work as well” with a half-hearted smile as Jos’s attention becomes divided, allowing everyone a moment of self introspection. The small room seems overly crowded, and the plethora of bodies and voices are distracting; drawing Alvina’s attention here and there to things and people she doesn’t quite care to pay attention to. She’s thankful for Hudson’s return, regardless, because he seems to be the link between all of the chains present. The drums beckon the singer back to the stage and while Ansel and Josleen fiddle with that task, Alvina turns to Hudson and nuzzles into him, a bit self conscious, nodding into his chest that she was indeed fine and thankful for his concern. It was those little things that brightened her spirits in the wake of too many other conversations. The stimuli in this place made her just a little anxious, so she downed her wine a bit faster than she might have otherwise. She nodded in agreement as Hudson talked about Kick ball, admitting she would love to come cheer him on and meet the team and celebrate their sparse victories; all the while wearing a warm smile, with occasional glances at Ansel once he returns to make sure he doesn’t feel excluded or too much a third wheel to their small party. When the music starts, the bard takes the invitation of the alchemist and lets him weave his arms around her. It soothes her nerves and she’s able to enjoy the music knowing no other strangers will be able to molest her…not that she suspects Hudson would. The thought never enters her mind. A few songs she knows, a few songs she doesn’t but she tries to sing to all of them anyway! It’s a bard’s favorite thing to sing, even if they are not the main attraction. It releases some of the tension that had built up in her chest and let her smile come easier as the wine warmed her insides. Bravely, she pecked Hudson’s cheek in the crowded room and jokingly blew one to Ansel as well.

Josleen pushes back into Ansel’s hand as he guides her through the crowd. The throng of bodies supplies a good excuse for why they MUST touch, and she takes it, slowing her pace to prolong the contact between his them. She grins up at him through the corner of her eyes and squeezes his hand before leaving him to return to the stage, where she transforms from a girl with a crush to a seasoned emcee. Her arms open wide to address the drunken lot. A few jokes, a couple call-outs for popular patrons, and then the set starts. At first they play the songs bards like to play, the uncommon but good, then cater to easy sing-a-longs. Jos accepts a couple of song requests, but the repeated shout for “Freebird!” goes ignored. A waitress signals something to Jos, and she nods while playing the flute without missing a note. When the song concludes, she announces “Today’s a special night, ladies and gentleman! Some lucky – or unlucky – bastard is being honored tonight with a shot of Dragon’s Blood!!” The crowd roars. Two lines of giants carve of a passage through the crowd between the bar and the victim: Ansel. Josleen’s nose wrinkles over a puzzled smile. Ansel? She didn’t expect that. How funny! Wonder who and why.

The lines of giants begin softly stomping and chanting a string of monosyllabic phrases/gibberish. The chant spreads like a hush through the crowd, the vowels and consonants malformed in drunken mouths. The waitress near the bar carries a double shot glass on a silver tray. The drink is neon blue, and vaporized ice wafts over its rim. She assumes the regale pace of a priestess as she brings the drink to Ansel, trying to supper a wry grin. Everyone’s in on the tongue-in-cheek bar ritual. There’s fun in pretending there can be divinity in drink, and it’s even more fun to inflict this on a guest of honor. The chanting grows louder as the waitress nears Ansel at a glacial pace. From her vantage point on the stage, Josleen can see the engineer dwarf swaying to and fro on his table, giddily staring at Ansel, looking like the culprit behind the shot. Josleen’s puzzled face loses its smile. Oh shhhi---. The dwarf points at Ansel when the waitress reaches him and shouts “TO EZEKIEL! BEST BOSS I EVER HAD!” A tiny male voice shouts “That’s not Ezekiel!” but the crowd drowns out this truth-sayer. Others who know Ezekiel look at each other puzzled, but most of the bar accepts that Ansel = Ezekiel. The dwarf slowly climbs down the table works his way to the crowd to engage ‘Ezekiel.’

Oh ffffffffuu---- Josleen’s expression turns to panic and she desperately tries to whip up her band into a song they hadn’t planned on playing today. The entire bar is watching Ansel/Ezekiel, cheering him on as he braves DRAGON’S BLOOD, which is really a foul, burning, face-wrenching concoction. Absinthe flavored so that not even the hardest drinker will like it. They say it can make you go blind. Everyone knows someone who knows someone whose father went blind drinking the stuff. The peer pressure is palpable, and from the band too. No matter how much Josleen prods, the band refuses to play until Ansel completes the ritual by downing the drink. But the dwarf is on him now! S.O.S! MAYDAY! Her bow furiously dives into her fiddle – band be damned, she’ll go it alone. She violates the tradition (boo! he hasn’t had the drink yet!), but ignores the complaints. She plays a fast-fiddle, Dwarven dance song, and the ploy works. The engineer immediately pops into a river dance, impressively upright considering how much he’s had to drink. Tergon shrugs apologetically to Ansel, recognizing that his buddy made a mistake. He approaches Ansel and claps him on the shoulder and says, “You do look a bit like Ezekiel, mate,” then moves on to rejoin his group. At the conclusion of song, Josleen downs way too much mead. Getting really drunk right now sounds about right.

Ansel smiles slightly at her squeezing his hand. He is sort of relieved that she does this, sort of like reassurance that she was okay. After her little short spew, he was curious. He moves back to Hudson and Alvina, and he leans on one of the chairs as he remains conversing with Hudson. Ansel is frowning, shaking his head, and now looking at the giant. Oh lanta… Could that even be…? Nooo, right? As Josleen begins her jokes, the air lightens, and he is finally at ease again. As Alvina blows a playful kiss towards him, he sheepishly smiles before giving a playful slap towards Hudson. Things were alright. He was… alright. A good night. The music was bringing a little more life out of the man, he was actually laughing, singing along from time to time, making side comments to the two before him. As Josleen announces the tradition, the crowd is riled. Dragon’s Blood. Though, as the two giants make their way over to him, he is puzzled himself.

The wolf looks around, trying to see if they were actually looking at him, or the ‘bastard’ who near him. Nope, this was Ansel. “Sh*t,” he would mutter under his breath, drinks made him… mean at times. This was just bad. He would be fine. He was tough, to an extent. Though he was looking at Josleen confused, and then at Hudson and then at Alvina. Crowds… the crowd was watching him, was the room getting smaller? The cheering became distant, but eyes rested on the dwarf before him. ‘TO EZEKIEL!’ then Ansel was blank. The expression was gone from his face, his eyes, all that was inside his mind was words racing. Who was Ezekiel? He looks at Josleen, she is panicked. Why? As everyone is waiting for the man to down this Dragon’s Blood, he reaches out slowly, as if he was on auto-pilot. Ansel looked gone. He did not look confused, he was only confused on the inside, though his expression was so flat, it was like stone. Whoever this Ezekiel character was, Ansel could piece together he meant a lot to these people of Frostmaw, and perhaps to Josleen. Now he was the one making assumptions. Perhaps, jealousy. He pivots around staring at all of the patrons in the tavern, and as the giant slaps him on the back in apologies, though Ansel quickly reaches out for the shot, and before anyone could really stop him, he shoots this back towards chapped lips, letting his throat open for the burning sensation to take over.

His face is a shade of crimson, his eyes are tightly shut, and he making loud shouting noises to get the drink down. His heart felt like this mind explode out of his chest. Eyes were still shut, a hand was on the table with the shot glass that was now chipped underneath his firm grip. Oh… oh no. He opens his eyes, they are a different shade – almost amber, Josleen would know if she noticed, but who would really notice? Ansel was not trying hard to force this back, but he also not letting the beast come out. How about being an ‘ass’? Would that work? “To Ezekiel, whoever you are!” Forget the band. Now, Ansel was going to let loose. As people cheered and starting patting Ansel on the back, the man would then escape to the bar. Forget Hudson, forget Alvina. Bring out the whisky folks. Ansel was not about to let the rest of the night affect him from humiliation. He was going to enjoy his night, the way he wanted to.

Hudson, for the record, good naturedly/graciously/with only love in his heart flips Ansel the bird in response to the Alvina kiss-blowing event. Much hilarious, guys, wow, so laugh!!! Moving along -- he is all about this dragon's blood event, and has a number of comments about how this substance no doubt is probably foul, possibly in reality yeti piss, as the procession of the "bottle girl" (...) takes place. Imagine his surprise when the lucky recipient proves to be Ansel. He grimaces, the hysterical gleam in his eyes suggesting that he's not in the least apologetic for the big game he's talked. Enjoy your yeti piss, Ansel. Much bro love, Huds. As front row observer to this, Huds is not above clapping and shouting "drink, drink, drink!" with everyone else. The Ezekiel comment certainly strikes a funny chord. Huds' gaze briefly connects with Alvina's, a question there, before the hiccup seems to pass and Ansel downs the shot to the jeering and cheering of everyone around him. Huds gives him a ceremonial slap on the back, and turns to otherwise comment on this ridiculous event when he notices the rather strange cast that's come over his friend. So he must have caught the Ezekiel thing too, and is processing it differently, breaking away from him and Alvina to make a beeline to the bar. Hudson tries to play the whole thing off discreetly, for Ansel's sake, though the cat is probably already totally out of the bag, having shredded it. "I think he's getting more drinks," Huds attempts, looking at the drinks that are currently already available on their table. "Or," a more likely cover story, "he is vomiting yeti piss in the men's room. I'll check on him in a bit." Time for a diversion! Huds reaches for Alvina's hand, the flesh one -- however much affection he may have toward Alvina, he's still a little stilted about touching her metal arm -- and tries to help her to her feet. "Let's dance until they're back." Mercifully the dwarven river dance has ended. It's crowded, everywhere, and to say the least 'dancing' is hardly the sort of thing he'd learned in etiquette classes. Fortunately for Huds, he's much more comfortable throwing shapes than he is dancing proper. There's little skill involved. Most of it is confidence and awareness of the beat, which Huds has in spades. This one goes out to Ansel's shattered self-confidence!

Alvina rolls her eyes in good humor as she catches the small exchange between Hudson and Ansel on behalf of her joking around. Boys will be boys, apparently. It’s in this moment that she feels a small twinge of disappointment the Josleen hadn’t been able to stay longer to balance them out. But, in reality, it’s hard to miss someone you’ve just met, especially when they are instructing the band on stage a few feet away. Hardly cause for internal dwelling. When her senses returned, the whole crowd seemed to shift its attention to Ansel, like he was the guest of honor! The bard was unfamiliar with the custom, but for a moment she quietly pondered if it was secretly his birthday…only to meet Hudson’s gaze with her own shrug and quizzical look in response, albeit a hint of a smile. There was mischief in Huds’ eyes, and it stirred her ever so slightly. It also did well to still the worry that rose in her throat, more so as the panicked look crossed Jos’ face as well. Oh gods, what was happening? Ansel downs the shot with notable bravery and when he opens his eyes again, he seems…different. A chill runs down Alvina’s spine as she looks at him, carefully, as Hudson concocts a cover for his friend. This did not settle well with the soft hearted bard and she watched Ansel as far as she could before Hudson pulled her away to dance. In the midst of everything, Alvina finds herself catching Josleen’s attempt at distracting music and smiles, like it’s her own private secret that Jos and Ansel have such affection for each other. It was easy to jump to romantic conclusions when wine was bubbling under the surface, and now being swirled around in her blood stream as she attempts to move in time with the rhythm of the music, while laughing quietly at Hudson’s dance moves. It’s not dancing like she’s ever seen but he does it with so much confidence, it was hard to tell that it was abnormal in any sense. Every once in a while, she throws a glance into the crowd; fishing for their separated companions and wondering if they would all rejoin or if their few moments of introduction was all the time the group would spend together. It became harder and harder to care the more she danced and drank, but the feeling lingered in the shadow of the deafening sounds.

Josleen’s attention is torn between the band and Ansel as she plays through the last two songs of her set. The tension in Ansel’s shoulders gives away his mood, as does his sudden penchant for irresponsible drink, in which Josleen shares at the moment. Whenever it isn’t her turn to play or sing she downs copious amounts of mead. The crowd chants for an encore that Josleen wouldn’t give if it were up to her, but the bassist strums a familiar set of chords. At least it’s a short ditty just under three minutes, and Josleen does what she can to speed up the tempo. Hudson and Alvina will have a great time keeping up with that! As soon as the song concludes, Josleen, like a woman possessed, packs her instruments and sets them aside to make room for the next band. Crossing the crowd is easier this time. She’s said hello to most familiar faces, and only needs to wade through the huggers, those men who learned at 12 that if they hug a hot chick then they’ll momentarily feel boobs, then never learned another thing since then. Josleen fends them off with a lethal look that stops one in his tracks and dissuades the rest. She sees Hudson and Alvina, then pretends she didn’t. Nice people, but right now low on her priority list. Sorry she’s not sorry, guys. As she nears Ansel, she realizes that drink was a bad idea. She has no idea what he’s thinking, what he has or has not figured out, how to best approach. Were she sober this would be an easier obstacle to navigate. Her head swims with doubts and no solutions. She slides up next to Ansel, pressing her arm alongside his gently to let him know she’s there. “Hey,” she says, trying to smile like everything is normal, but she’s too gone to pull off guile. Concern makes her smile a little crooked; her brows pull together in a puppyish mix of guilt and worry. Her fingers spread over his on the tabletop and give his hand a squeeze before pulling away. What if he’s pissed off and she shouldn’t do that? What she should do evades her, because the truth is they’re only just making each other’s acquaintance. He isn’t a stranger anymore, but only just. Yet she tries.

Ansel was not sure he would be back. Alvina and Hudson were long gone in his brain. The bartender serving drinks would keep them coming. All the attention was averted back to Josleen and the band. He would drink the harsh liquor slowly, eyes would linger over at the woman from time to time, only realizing she was downing mead – he was observant. Something was off with her, and well, Ansel was not sure if he wanted to find out. Who was Ezekiel? Did this matter? They were practically strangers. The reserved man had gone through about two drinks until she brushed against him, he was bobbing his head to the music, but that came to a halt. Eyes were still… intense, he was staring forward. She was touching him, and he set down his drink with his other hand for a moment. The hand that was under her own would twist until fingers would lace within her own. Enough playing pretend in front of the crowd. He would glance at her, viewing the worrisome gaze that she was offering to him. That guilty face… He stood up, his face was flat, and he would grasp the drink again before pulling her arm, yet his fingers would slip through and he would begin walking by himself. Ansel was not a talker, nor did crowds do him well anyway. The man would glide through the crowd, passing Hudson and Alvina – a nod, and another swig of alcohol before continuing onward. Perhaps, this was something that Josleen and Ansel should figure out alone because otherwise moody Ansel would get too moody and rip apart the tavern. Either way, well, it was best to leave into the bitter winds – obviously without a jacket. He was fine, he would manage.

Hudson, like Alvina, is likewise spying on Ansel and Josleen from time to time, and also likewise saying nothing about it. The majority of his focus is on Alvina, though, who seems less at ease in the crowd than he is. He shows her all his terrible dance moves. The stilted moonwalk. The hold-your-foot-and-try-to-leap-over-it move that nobody can ever really manage. They're like bad inside jokes, and serve as weak punctuation marks to the very ordinary but universally accepted bouncing in place that constitutes dancing for men. He brings his face close to Alvina's and shouts in her ear from time to time about the music, trying to make small talk, but at the end of the day the room is brimming with noise. And it's perfectly pleasant to pass the time dancing in a crowded room. The air is foggy with innuendo and Hudson is running all cylinders on liquid confidence. In any event, it becomes apparent, as he and Alvina pause for water, that Ansel and Jos are on fleeing the scene, likely to resolve the great mystery of Ezekiel. Huds' hand touches the small of Alvina's back as he gently steers her like a ship so that she too can observe. "I don't think they're coming back," he shouts into her ear, waiting for her to give the little nod that conveys 'message received.' His head jerks in the direction of the door. "You OK? You want to go? I can drop you off."

Alvina stays by Hudson's side, glad for the company but secretly heartbroken that the group had basically dissolved over mysterious circumstances that neither of them would know. It felt beyond her grasp yet strangely familiar. Hudson kept her attention until the opposing pair broke apart at the bar, then she felt like she wanted to get involved...But kept her distance. She caught the harsh gaze Jos was giving those hug enthralled men and decided to stay with the alchemist, taking too many swigs of wine, wishing it was better before she was intoxicated enough to stop caring. "This crowd is a little unsettling," she yelled over the noise of the patrons, roused by the previous events and too much alcohol intake. Her emerald optics caught Hudson rather seriously, with a cocky grin on her lips. "You're going to take me home? Shouldn't I be asking Cleo?" She laughed; a sound lost in the mirage noises surrounding before she takes his hand and heads toward the door. "I'm probably going to kiss you," she warned in a low tone, barely audible until they get outside. The curtain of her bangs cuts her vision, but not so much that she doesn't see Ansel depart. Frowning, she turns to her "friend" and draws him close with a suggestive gaze inspired by far too much wine on her part...and once they manage to persuade Cleo to take them home, Ansel and Josleen fade in her memory like the lights from the Frostmaw Tavern into the dark night.