Two otters in a vermin tavern... this can't end well.

The Black Gull Tavern!

Rorgan and Ink, otters

In the midst of all the loud talking and the smoky, smelly atmosphere, most dont take notice of the black otter as she enters unobtrusively. She shakes off some snow from her cloak before slipping between full tables and avoiding the busy workers, making her way to a small empty table way in the back of the tavern. She wipes a paw down the table, throwing some small pieces of crumbs and dirt onto the floor, before she sits.

Amidst the crazily loud atmosphere, a similar black otter is sitting at the bar, drinking a mug. Though the beasts bustle around him and seem to have a generally drunken good time, he remains silent and keeps to himself.

In a place with so many vermin, an otter sitting at the bar isn't quite so hidden. Neither, really, is the one at the table... but at least she feels somewhat secure there. She furrows her brow, staring at her fellow otter at the bar for a moment before drawing her gaze away to survey the rest of the tavern comers. But her eyes are drawn back to the bar. /What/ is an /otter/ doing at a vermin establishment (besides herself)? Confusion ripples across her face. Does not compute....

The otter in mention is a pitch black furred otter with three daggers hanging off of his belt and a bow and quiver strapped onto his back. He is clothed in leather armor colored similarly to his fur, making him slightly difficult to see. The otter looks around the tavern, his piercing ice blue eyes locking onto the other otter for just a moment before he returns to his drink.

Caught! Swearing under her breath, she motions over a passing tavern-hand to take her mumbled order. "C'n I get yer name, miss?" The otter sighs. "Aye. Tis Ink." "I'll be right back, Miss Ink." The stoat hurries on his way to the kitchen.

As the stoat passes the otter, he grabs the stoat's arm, whispering to the beast for a few moments. His gaze flicks momentarily to the other otter for a moment before he nods and returns to his drink for the time being.

Ink is staring very, very conciously at her paws, picking at her claws in her lap. Sheesh. Course she had to come in here. The stoat comes back out of kitchen with a mug on his little serving platter, looking very anxious.

Waiting until the stoat is gone, the otter finally stands and navigates the tavern crowd of vermin to arrive at Ink's table. Sitting down across from her, Rorgan holds out a paw. "Hullo," He says in a fairly heavy northern accented baritone.

Ink clutches her mug from the stoat tightly, looking at the other otter silently for a moment before taking his profferred paw. "Aye, hello." Her voice is rough, like she doesn't use it much. Erm. Now what is she supposed to do? "May I ask your name?" She speaks quiety, but not so much that she can't be heard above the regular tavern noise.

Rorgan tilts his head slightly. "Uh, d'ye mind repeatin' that?" He asks

Well, maybe it was too quiet. Ink clears her throat. "May I /ask/ your /name?/" She repeats, louder, before taking a sip of her drink and leaning back.

"Ah! Well you can call me Rorgan, and may I ask what /your/ name is?" Rorgan leans back, watching the other otter intently.

Ink nods slowly, as if the name means something to her, and she returns the gaze. "My name is Ink, Rorgan." She clears her throat and sips her drink, still looking at him.

Leaning forward again, Rorgan asks, "And wot, may I ask, are you doin' here?" In a softer voice so as to not attract attention.

Ink wraps both paws around the mug and mocks him, leaning forward and lowering her voice. She really wants to ask if that's any business of his, but naw. She'll try something different today. "Perhaps I'm just stopping by for a drink. What's it to you?" Well, not so different.

Rorgan shrugs with a small smile. "Well it doesn't hurt t' make conversation does it?" He asks.

Whoops. Ink isn't too social. No snub intended! She coughs awkwardly and leans back again. "No, I suppose not. Care to share what you're doing here, then?"

Rorgan chuckles, looking around the tavern. "Well, I like t' come here fer the drinks most times." He replies.

Ink's eyebrows raise slightly, though since her fur is all black, it mostly shows as a slight wrinkle on her forehead. "To a vermin place? I couldn't imagine you in a stranger place. Though," She says thoughtfully. "They do make an alright drink." She gives a miniscule shrug and takes another sip.

Rorgan laughs and nods. "Aye, though I've had me share of fights here from vermin who decided they couldn't keep t' themselves."

Ink's eyes narrow just a bit when Rorgan mentions fighting vermin. "Aye." She says slowly, staring at her drink now rather than the present company. There's clearly no threat from him- he rather seems very nice- and looking at him was getting awkward.

Rorgan frowns slightly at the otter's unresponsiveness. "Er....is somethin' wrong?" He asks nervously, worried he had said something wrong.

Ink blinks at him. "No, no. You're fine." An awkward stutter comes with the 'fine.' Gosh, is Ink terrible with this whole talking to other otters thing. And maybe 'fine' wasn't the right word choice....? And- sheesh, can he stop looking at her, already?! She can't think. "I just, wasnt aware that there were fights here..." That's sounds stupid. "No, it's fine. Nevermind. I'm just not a... fan.. of vermin." THat's better!

Rorgan shrugs. "I s'pose I can't blame you for that. Vermin can be nasty creatures, but so can woodlanders." He gives a small laugh.

Ink stares down at her drink. She spends so much time "around" (aka hunting and killing) vermin, she wouldnt know if woodlanders were any good... "Suppose." She lies, and takes another sip of her drink, avoiding eye contact.

Rorgan tilts his head slightly, curious at the other otter's behavior. "Is..somethin' amiss? I'm not botherin' you am I?"

Ink grins, showing her white point teeth, and gives a deep scratchy chuckle. She hasn't done one of those in so long- it feels good. "Bothering me? Course you are. But please, I'd like to keep talking." Her dark fur hides another random, uncharacteristic blush as she realizes what she just said.

Rorgan frowns. "I..s'pose that mean we'll talk, though I don't want t' bother you if you don't want me here."

Ink hasn't talked so much for years, and her throat feels sore. She downs the rest of her drink and motions to the waiter for another. "Well, I'm not forcing you to stay if'n you don't want to."

Rorgan chuckles. This otter was certainly confusing him more than any other creature had. "I'd like t' stay, but I don't want t' make you uncomfortable."

Ink shrugs. "Then I suppose you're staying, because I'm not uncomfortable." Lie. All lies! The waiter comes back and fills up Ink's mug. "It's...nice to have... company." Why is picking words hard?! It's never been before...

Rorgan nods in agreement. "I would agree with that miss."

The waiter moves off, and Ink takes a sip of the newly-poured drink. "Aye. Are you around here often?" Now why'd she go and say that? It's not like she'd care!

Rorgan shrugs, looking around. "Aye, I guess you could say so. I'm quite partial t' the drinks served here."

I think this may be a work in progress...?