Fenn was- Fenn was out in the open?

So Much chaos had happened since he had tripped that orc. What had he begun? Had he started this? Yelling, explosions, upturned tables… the tavern was in utter uproar! For a while, Fenn had stayed safe underneath his table, but then Yvonne of all people had appeared out of nowhere and advised him to flee from a cow. All the drunk fae could manage was a crossed-eyed puzzlement as she crawled through his mess of dishes and vanished through the tablecloth.

And then his table and flew up into the air, one leg almost hitting him. And then the earthquake of a cowman had passed.

The little fae was left shock-struck amid piles of broken glass ground into decimated floorboards. What? His hiding place? He almost squished? He scowled and hiccoughed as the burly minotaur smashed off toward other unfortunates. A part of him was afraid to move because of the glass — oops. A very different part of him was stuck on the realization that this bar was totally trashed and thus no longer able to dish out drinks and deliciousness. And thus, there were no more foods or mugs for him to make off with and nurse in quiet joy.

His eyes narrowed and his cheeks puffed out in irritation.

It wasn’t exactly intentional, the steady trickle of ice that slicked the floor outward from where he sat, but it was indeed done with the relish of spite and puffs of livid snowflakes once he realized he was doing it. Those brawlers could eat floor too, just like the stompy orc. ‘Specially that minotaur. Hooves and slick ground didn’t mix together well.