Tavern wench, make me a drink (Sam M)
This place and these people did not leave Finn in a very good mood. He'd had to hold himself back from turning a few people into toads or inflicting more... subtle curses on them. Subtle curses were his bread and butter, to be certain. He always preferred the revenge that crept up on a person, slowly making them miserable. And yet, he had to figure out where he was and why he was here. These people and their archaic ideas about what men could and couldn't do were an irritation but they weren't the real threat here. No, he had yet to see the real threat. And if Niks was correct, the real threat was far bigger than he would have preferred. The threat was quite literally alien in every meaning of the word.
So for now, he would be a 'good' faerie and was simply observing. Currently, he'd had a long day and he sought out some sort of libations. The ales here paled in comparison to what he was use dto back home, but they would have to do for now.
He strolled into the tavern without a second thought for the looks that he got at being a man out on his own after dark. Instead, he grabbed a seat in one of the tables furthest away from the crowd of people and attempted to catch the attention of the man who was currently serving the denizens of this backwards place.
He even managed to keep the open disdain off his face for the time being. Instead, he just sat and listened to the conversations around him in the hopes of learning a little bit more about his surroundings or better yet, his captors.