Pilfering The Past

[Yvonne]

Yvonne burst into a fit of hysterical giggles, tones of rising amusement and dwindling panic uncontrollably escaping her. Her worrying laughter took her over and she flopped herself back into the grass, throwing her arms out either side of herself. Her giggles were almost too much and she could barely breathe. The half-and-halfling tried to speak, truly.

"Ye two-- hehe! Did ye-- HAHAhahaaa!" she began, devolving into another bout of laughter. She required another moment to catch her composure - breathing in, breathing out. She sat upright, all grins.

"Wow ye two turned that around! Haha, did ye see tha look on her face!? Where did that water spray come from, back of yer throat? Ye didn't even huck-tooey but by tha crikeys she felt tha wallop of that golly! What ye supposed ta be then eh, a killer whale?" Yvonne asked, perhaps teasing a little but she felt genuinely impressed. "Keep ye about, we will, and neck deep in booze if that be yer fancy!" The drow-dwarf's attention turned to Fenn and she lowered her voice so as not to be overheard by any fae stragglers, on the other side of the great tree.

"Bloody impulsive flamethrowers - and what did ye swipe from her dear? Got her lunch money I bet. Tha irony of it all," she whispered, giggling again, the hysteria all but vanished. It seemed a simple enough pouch. What it was made from, who knew? Mayhap a crocodile stomach or wild boar bladder. No telling how these jungle dwellers improvised their everyday belongings. What remained hidden inside - that was the question!

As Fenn conveyed his words through his hand gestures Yvonne looked to the heroine of the day, to see if she understood him. Most likely not, her guess. Even she was still learning his nifty finger-speak. She made an effort to interpret for them, but she could only understand so much and what she didn't know was fair game for playfully twisting as she saw fit.

"Fenn thanks ye," she explained for the not-so-drakari. That sign she'd seen before - thanks. "What be... yer name? What does that third one mean Mister Glenwey? Thirsty? We could go stand at rain's edge with our tongues out ta catch some, though we'd look a silly sight doing it, teehee. Fair warning, if yer sauce bottles go missing me friend here be sticky-fingered and throat-parched. After that wee incident tha only one not in need of a drink be Orange," the half-dwarf said smugly.

She tried to imitate the water projectile action, yawning her head back and preparing her imaginary throat glands for discharging, but there was nothing for it. She couldn't replicate it but it sure was funny to try.