“You should talk,” Jake shot back with a grin. His green eyes drank her in. “You look like you’re ready for a fancy date.”

She shot him a glare and tried to cover her face. Jake wondered if she was self conscious... Amari always seemed so confident. “As I said … I had a doting succubus insist I wear this. I know I look stupid!” She huffed, her rosy cheeks reddening more from frustration. “if you're just going to point it out all night I’ll leave!”

“I’m just teasing,” Jake said, the smile falling from his face. “You look great… Red.” He used her new name, and it still felt false on his tongue. To the half elf, she would always be Amari.

Tilting backwards on two legs of his chair, he balanced precariously while sipping his ale. Situations that made most folk uneasy were meditative for Jake Narmolanya. He could laugh in the face of a snarling demon, sing over the silence of a library, and dance along the edge of an active volcano. He figured it had something to do with his upbringing - he’d been exposed to hardship and violence from a young age, but never wanted for good friends and strong role models.

With Amari, however, Jake often didn’t know what to do or say. The woman had a spiny personality and a bear trap for a temper. He felt a certain responsibility for her, though. In the past he’d missed opportunities to make her life better, and while he’d accepted the fact it was not up to him to change her conditions, he wanted to support her as a friend. Even if that meant taking the odd tongue-lashing.

“I’ve been thinking about-” he cleared his throat “-procuring a new horse.” He confided to her, “a yearling.” His verdant eyes glowed and he put his ale down, rubbing his palms together. “From Fallien.” The last time they’d met, Jake had still been mourning the death of his previous steed, Gunner. The gelding had served him well for many years, and it had taken some months for him to feel ready to… procure… another horse.

“Good for you,” Amari said bitingly, and then softened somewhat when she saw the smile slip from his face for a second time. “No, really. I mean it, but why Fallien?”

“Don’t you remember?” Jake quirked an eyebrow. He’d told her about Fallieni lineages. “They’re known as the strongest and fastest steeds in all of Althanas.”

“Oh. Right.”

Jake re-settled the black silk scarf around his neck. Over Amari’s shoulder he spied a server and waved the young woman over. She cut through a fog of pipe smoke from two tables over and curtsied daintily as she arrived.

“What would you like?” Jake asked his old friend, “get anything, it’s on me.”