Qebhet had always thought there was something pleasing about watching a practiced hand at work, whether it be chiselling glyphs or applying cosmetics or prepare a drink. It was the fluid deftness of a skill that had become second nature, an unthinking kind of grace that could make even a mundane task compelling. Much had that behind the bar. It seemed to Qebhet that he barely so much as glanced at the taps as he pulled the dwarves' beers, chatting animatedly the whole time and spilling not a single drop.
She smiled when Much returned, enjoying his easy conversation as she watched him mix her cocktail. Once it was done, she took a sip and closed her eyes, giving a pleased hum. It hadn't been an idle boast: it was a good mojito, light and fresh, the cool mint flavour balancing perfectly with the crisp soda. "Mm... Miami in the summer. The beach. I prefer freshwater, but the beaches there, on a clear night, with a breeze off the water... perfect."