Diplomacy Espionage Ineptitude 001
A clean table with two plates clean of food stood between Jocer and Ifian. The latter holding a quickly emptying mug of Dwarven Ale – unwitting courtesy of his table neighbour – and expressing his feeling of newfound homesickness towards: “… hair that can break a shaving razor if they tried to use it! And that’s just the women, the …” “The brothel itself clean I hope,” was the only thing Jocer could think of to steer the conversation to a more mentally hospitable area without being too rude to his good friend....