Pallas seemed taken by the music as well. Fair enough, but he was quite disappointed that she would say that of Ealdwine. 

It was also quite unfortunate that the young eyepatched girl seemed to want no part in his pleasantries, and Edward was quite at a loss. But no matter. What could be done if the girl simply did not have the desire, nay, the ability to trade words of import?

He did not have to ponder over Milo for long, as a rather scantily clad, but cloaked woman approached, donning yet another eyepatch. It seemed as if the tavern’s combined depth perception continued to deteriorate by the hour. 

[color=7bcdc8]"Seems I’m new to this place, and you three seem to be some of the nicer of people here, where could an oldie like me find a blacksmith? It seems old faithful has given out on me"[/color]

Edward brightened up at her entrance, half out of reflex, but half out of genuine relief that the tension with Milo could be broken and conversation could continue. He wasn’t quite so used to all of this direct confrontation.

The sultry barmaid brought along tankards of Ale for all of them, and he returned her flirtatious smile with a tip of the hat, and confident smile of his own. Taking a sip of the ale however, his expression immediately soured, and he hesitantly placed the tankard back on the bar counter. Disgusting commoner drink, and a far cry from the fine ales of the trappist monks. But as he had trained himself to do, he reapplied his smile, and let the night continue. 

He let Milo and Pallas have their first words to the newcomer, then he laughed, and waved a hand in play dismissal of Milo’s affront. [color=6ecff6]“Oh madame, while I cannot help you on your search for a blacksmith, surely you need not refer to yourself as one so advanced in age! One need only take a cursory glance at you to conclude that Juventus herself (Roman Goddess of youth) would envy your beauty. To what then do I owe the honor, if I have the pleasure of entertaining your company for longer than just a moment?”[/color]

Yet another figure approached, clad in black robes, holding a content gray cat. It was becoming quite the crowd. It was a young clergyman, who sat down at the table and addressed them in a kind priestly voice. 

But Edward was allergic to cats. 

He could not help himself from shooting tentative glances at the wicked ball of fur as he greeted the stranger. [color=6ecff6]“Ah, hallowed be the name of the Lord, and greetings in Christ, dear priest.”[/color] As much as he tried to put on airs however, his attention was solely fixed on the damned creature. He could feel the skin on his neck beginning to itch.

No really. He could feel the ruffle of his shirt toyed around with.

Immediately, he whipped around and saw a feathery skeleton bird cloak laughing at him. Nay, a man in a feathery skeleton bird cloak laughing at him. Another interruption. By God, Edward had never been so rudely interrupted so frequently before in his life. 

[color=gray]”Aren’t you the prettiest angel? Has the Maker called you down to Earth to play an undertaker?”[/color] 

The voice sounded from within the figure, deep but treacherously humored, sending a chill down his spine. 

But a man of the house of Hart-Ellington would not take this lying down. As the man fled back to his seat, he immediately abandoned his companions, and pulled the hand cannon from his back, pointing it at the retreating figure.

But It was only for show. He wasn’t going to shoot it. Heavens no. 

He yelped, [color=6ecff6]“Good sir, I hope you are prepared to apologize for this grave travesty of honor. You should know better than to--”[/color]

SSLASHH-- A sharp pain flooded Edward’s arm as a flying dagger ripped through his coat and bit into the flesh of his arm. Blood splattered as he cried out, and his arm flailed wildly. 

Then his finger pulled the trigger out of reflex.

BANG

Edward’s hand cannon discharged, sending twenty lethal pellets of hot lead flying across the tavern. 

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