Yvonne happily took Storm's crowns with black-fingered finesse, firstly smacking the grabby hands of the nearest kobold. "Hey! These be paying for that drink ye got. Ye trying ta buy yer next drink with what I already earned? Hands off greedy," she chastised. With basic sleight of hand she appeared to scratch an itch, instead tucking coins down her corset with each scratch. The remaining payment she swept into a drawer below the counter, before any other kobolds decided they liked shiny things and made their move too.

The runty drow penciled a few sentences on a piece of paper, swiftly scrawling her message, folding the note in half and handing it to Storm as though it was his receipt. Message delivered she switched her attention to refilling glasses, the row of glass far more bendy and curving than earlier as the kobolds couldn't for the life of them set their empties down in a straight line. She walked along the bar once more, draining another bottle-worth of honey mead so they could all have another go at inebriation.

"Pour drinkss fasster... black-skin sslave!" Gru'Hal commanded, losing his patience. Yvonne could tell that the red cap mushroom was doing its work - the kobold general seemed to be floating in and out of awareness - but he wasn't as relaxed as she had expected him to be by now. The apothecary was beginning to think it wasn't going to be enough to put the lizard down for the night. Gru'Hal was a tougher, more muscular kobold than his cohorts.

"Gru'Hal drink more than any kobold! Need bigger glasss! Thiss one not big enough!" He tossed his glass over his shoulder with his one good hand dismissively. It shattered loudly on the floorboards a few seconds later. It wasn't clear to Yvonne whether kobolds were capable of regeneration, but as the minutes ticked by Gru'Hal was definitely regaining his strength - if not his hand. They would need to do more to keep the situation in check.

Yvonne wasn't entirely certain of the kind of man Storm Veritas was, but she'd gleaned a reasonable idea this evening already. She was taking a risk on him because he was obviously more subtle than his friend. The dwarf hybrid mentally crossed her fingers while she entertained the guests, hoping he was as underhanded as she was - that he wouldn't just rat her out.

The message: Nice be no fun. Distract them for me and I'll drug that overgrown skink again before he makes another scene.