As usual, she was right. Eldwic knew she meant well, and he gave her a thankful smile for being brave enough to fight for their seat. He resolved to do the same for her, next time, even if it meant turning into a beet-red, stuttering mess in front of a few toughs. The request for mead was met with an enthusiastic nod, and soon enough, the meals would arrive for them both, the stews piping hot, served with old bread, and the mead, cool and crisp in a wooden tankard.

"We could learn how to make our own mead," he said, his voice louder than he thought, amidst the constant din of conversation around them both. "Running off? That would be difficult, though... what with my pay as a ratter," Eldwic said, with a sigh. Ever the realist, already, his mind was churning through the terrible things such a reality would entail. "You might end up selling your hair. That would be a shame. It's long, and beautiful. Reminds me of the sun," he said, as he looked at her with a calm smile. Eldwic wasn't bashful about telling the truth, at least. "I'd sell my teeth first."

As a faster song started up, some people got up to dance. He stayed rooted to his chair, shrinking a little, while sending a small glare towards the bard. It was a lively, invigorating tune, but no doubt one that someone with two left feet would find difficult to move to. Some struggled, though even in their struggle, they still seemed to have quite the fun - no doubt helped along by liquid courage and a playful spirit.

"No, I'm not going to," he said, his lips straightening into a thin, tense line, in anticipation of what his friend might suggest. "You can go on though. Larder and I will keep your seat warm." Eldwic was certain Evalynn would find a partner right away. He wasn't going to stand in between whatever fun she had, but he resolved to keep close watch. "But just one song. We have to finish up and get out of here soon, before it gets too dark. Your father will have my hide, if you get home too late."