He took note of the way the tiefling pulled his mug close as soon as it was sat in front of him, downing half of it in one go. Perhaps he was simply parched, or perhaps he suspected Joon-gi would spike his drink if he took his eyes off it for even a moment.
Well, it wasn't such a bad thing to foster a healthy bit of suspicion around strangers. Because Joon-gi had most certainly dosed a few adventurers with a powerful sleeping draught when the situation deemed it necessary.
Fortunately, this wasn't one of those situations. Not yet, anyway.
He reached for his own mug, dragging it across the table toward himself. The tiefling's story concerning his arrival provided little in the way of new information. Joon-gi had heard dozens of variations on a theme: that of people being drawn into the mists under various circumstances, and almost never by choice.
"I wish I could tell you the answer but, unfortunately, there appears to be no definitive pattern connecting those who are brought here by the mists. Bad luck, or mere chance? It's anyone's guess."
Well, Joon-gi had his own theories, but he wasn't about to divulge them this early in the relationship. Especially since neither of them had even exchanged names.
All in good time, though.
He lifted his mug, pausing for a moment when he realized that he was still wearing his half-mask. He considered the opportunity to manufacture a moment of vulnerability, to further ingratiate himself to the tiefling.
Joon-gi hooked a finger into the black fabric covering his face and pulled it downward, revealing pale skin that, he hoped, would appear more ethereal rather than sickly in the dim light cast by the meager fire. He lifted the mug against his lips and sipped at his beer. He couldn't taste it, nor could he recall the memory of its flavor.
But his expression betrayed nothing as he set his mug down and fixed the tiefling with a wry look. The corner of his mouth pulled into the barest hint of a smile.
"There is..." His dark eyes, heavily-lined with kohl, glinted with a bit of mischief. "Though, you might find the flavor a bit... intense for your liking."
It wasn't unheard of for those who had grown accustomed to eating such bland fare to season it with spicy peppers, if only because there were no other seasonings to be had. Many outsiders believed the native Barovians to be somewhat masochistic in their tastes, unable to understand how anyone could actually enjoy the stinging burn upon one's tongue with every mouthful.
Now he was curious to know what the tiefling might think of the house special...
no subject
Well, it wasn't such a bad thing to foster a healthy bit of suspicion around strangers. Because Joon-gi had most certainly dosed a few adventurers with a powerful sleeping draught when the situation deemed it necessary.
Fortunately, this wasn't one of those situations. Not yet, anyway.
He reached for his own mug, dragging it across the table toward himself. The tiefling's story concerning his arrival provided little in the way of new information. Joon-gi had heard dozens of variations on a theme: that of people being drawn into the mists under various circumstances, and almost never by choice.
"I wish I could tell you the answer but, unfortunately, there appears to be no definitive pattern connecting those who are brought here by the mists. Bad luck, or mere chance? It's anyone's guess."
Well, Joon-gi had his own theories, but he wasn't about to divulge them this early in the relationship. Especially since neither of them had even exchanged names.
All in good time, though.
He lifted his mug, pausing for a moment when he realized that he was still wearing his half-mask. He considered the opportunity to manufacture a moment of vulnerability, to further ingratiate himself to the tiefling.
Joon-gi hooked a finger into the black fabric covering his face and pulled it downward, revealing pale skin that, he hoped, would appear more ethereal rather than sickly in the dim light cast by the meager fire. He lifted the mug against his lips and sipped at his beer. He couldn't taste it, nor could he recall the memory of its flavor.
But his expression betrayed nothing as he set his mug down and fixed the tiefling with a wry look. The corner of his mouth pulled into the barest hint of a smile.
"There is..." His dark eyes, heavily-lined with kohl, glinted with a bit of mischief. "Though, you might find the flavor a bit... intense for your liking."
It wasn't unheard of for those who had grown accustomed to eating such bland fare to season it with spicy peppers, if only because there were no other seasonings to be had. Many outsiders believed the native Barovians to be somewhat masochistic in their tastes, unable to understand how anyone could actually enjoy the stinging burn upon one's tongue with every mouthful.
Now he was curious to know what the tiefling might think of the house special...