"Alright, alright," began Zephyrlink, "I'll keep discreet." He knocked his knuckles loudly on the table's rotted frame, gaining the attention of the barman. "I'd like a change of course. I'll have whatever Hawk's having." The orcs cast a sideways glance at Zephyr, and he saluted them mockingly, turning back to Hawk's blank face.

"You know, there are times in our relationship which I just have to save to look back on. Why can't this be one of them? I mean, shedding orc-blood isn't going to do us any harm, is it?" Zephyr whispered, an obvious hint of seriousness in his voice. He really did enjoy killing, even for the fun of it. And yet, as much as Hawk refused to provoke the orcs, Zephyr continued his silly retorts about doing so.