“Whatsh da total, Kylene?”
I shoot an exasperated look at the gyrating barmaid who can’t seem to stand still for a moment.
The blood elf wiggles her behind to the music as she bends over to do the math on a parchment.
“OK, that was nine flagons of mead and three jugs of bourbon. Let’s see …”
“Would you get me another drink, Ringo?”
“Not unless you say it,” Ringo said, leaning back in his chair at the Honor Hold Inn. “You know the rules.”
“I’m not going to say it,” Beli said, her voice even, but shooting him a dirty look.
“Say what?” Widge asked, returning from the Little Gnome’s Room outside and climbing into his seat.