Amal had already stripped himself of his cloak, though he regretted it immediately. He was still so used to the desert sun, the cold had its claws in this room, and so he lit a fire in the fireplace as swiftly as he could. He had gotten quite good at it now after weeks of practice. Once the kindling had been set alight, he turned and saw Char remove her own cloak. It was hard not to appreciate her form, but he was not that drunk. Plus, she had shown no interest in him as of yet. 

Instead, he hefted the bottle of rum he had procured from downstairs, as if he had plucked it out of thin air with a spell. "Tell you something?" He remarked in his curious accent. "We have never been more than four yards from one another for two weeks now. I believe I can speak and you will know what lie I will tell next." He flashed her a devilish grin. 

He plopped onto the couch, however, and took a huge draught from his bottle. The three great gulps had eliminated at least a mugs worth of the stuff before he removed it from his lips. "But...I can tell you of the time I stole a moonblade from a pasha's armory?" 

He began to weave a small tale of daring, his style sardonic, pragmatic, but with humor as was his way. Amal's tale had begun when he had been approached by a vengeful half-elf who's mother's blade had been stolen in a raid that took her life. The half-elf had hired Amal to retrieve it. The adventure took him to the sewers of Calimport, through a wererat gang, up into the bowels of the pasha's pleasure house, killing the pasha's lieutenant and taking his apparel, and sneaking into the armory before his discovery. He made it out by the skin of his teeth, along with a bejeweled brassiere of the pasha's favorite girl he had managed to scoop up to add insult to injury on his flight. 

"The half-elf paid well, and I sold the garment." He said with a shrug. "I lived on borrowed time after that. Pasha Visko took me under his protection for a time, but it was not long until he felt my head would bring a greater price than my fingers, and so I felt to memnom." 

At this point, the fire had warmed him, bathing his caramel skin in warm light. He took another swig of the bottle, giving a satisfied gasp.