Amal had thought she might pull away immediately, maybe slap him as some other women might have. He felt he had a good eye for when he was pushing too far on that end, and though he was amoral in many ways, he never blamed a woman for striking him if he got it wrong. Not to mention a drow made it thrice as dangerous. But not only did she kiss back, she mounted his lap, and a thrill shot up his chest. Ibrandul save him, this was looking to be a very nice night. 

Until a few seconds later, when Ibrandul cursed him for a fool and she pulled away from him. Her fingernails on his chest made it even worse! He could still feel the titillating sting, and it drove him mad. He gave a frustrated groan as she rolled off of him. 

"You delight in torturing me, do you?" He asked as he turned on her with an annoyed look on his handsome face, but it was rhetorical question. He knew the answer quite well. He wanted to complain more, or perhaps even beg in his near drunken state, but he knew it was fruitless either way. The thief fell back onto the cushion and ran a hand across his face. "Very well, I expect we shall." 

Then he chuckled, finding the humor in it. Amal was not so used to letting his guard down, but she had him good. Perhaps he was beginning to grow fond of her enough to actually trust her. Who would have thought the first person to gain his acceptance in a decade would be a dark elf maiden? "Well, maybe we should get some sleep. We have a long way to travel tomorrow, if we are really heading north." 

Maybe he could win some coin in dice in the morning if they had time, but it was just a distracting thought. He knew he would go to sleep dreaming about Charynrae's lips.