[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/CkBN9Kp.png[/img]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/4mZnPLt.gif[/img]
[color=C2F2B8]
[color=gold][b]Race:[/b][/color] Gnome  
[color=gold][b]Class:[/b][/color] Socialite  
[color=gold][b]interaction:[/b][/color] Watching [@FunnyGuy] Wendel, Gears @papaoso
[color=gold][b]Location:[/b][/color] Airship
[color=gold][b]Attire:[/b][/color] See picture above
[color=gold][b]Gold Balance:[/b][/color] 30
[color=gold][b]Injuries:[/b][/color] None
[color=gold][b]Equipment:[/b][/color]  
[color=gold]⋆[/color] Walking Stick Shillelagh  
[color=gold]⋆[/color] Small Trinkets & Stolen Baubles  
[color=gold]⋆[/color] A Collection of Miniature Cheese Wheels  
[color=gold]⋆[/color] Pocket Mirror  
[color=gold]⋆[/color] Ornate Deck of Cards (for tricks & misdirection)  
[color=gold]⋆[/color] Small Disguise Kit 
[color=gold]⋆[/color] Critter
[color=gold]⋆[/color] Bag [/color][/center]

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/R3zAvNa.png[/img][/center]

[color=C2F2B8]


---------------------------------------------

Bobi crouched low behind a stack of crates, peering through the gap between two enchanted punch bowls with the laser focus of a squirrel guarding its last nut.

The dwarf had moved.

Now he was seated at the bar—white hair catching the lanternlight, beard still brick-thick, posture too composed for Bobi’s comfort. Just sitting there next to a hooded girl like he wasn’t 100% plotting the theft of a state secret or the summoning of a cider demon.

Bobi narrowed his eyes.

[color=gold]“He relocated. Bold. Calculated. Probably laying spores,”[/color] he muttered.

Critter gave a skeptical snort from inside Bobi’s coat, tail flicking with silent judgment.

[color=gold]“Don’t sass me. I’ve been trained in twelve forms of hypothetical threat detection, including Fungal Insurgency and Beard-Based Misdirection.”[/color]

But before Critter could perform the rodent equivalent of a facepalm, fate intervened.

A sharp yelp—Critter’s tail had been stepped on by a passing passenger.

Instant chaos.

Critter launched into DEFCON 1, screeching and zigzagging across the Bar Deck like a lightning bolt powered by caffeine and vengeance.

[color=gold]“NO NO NOT THE POPCORN MACHINE!”[/color] Bobi shrieked, springing into action with all the grace of a flying satchel. He flailed through a forest of legs, juked past a server, then dove—

—straight into a metallic chestplate.

He bounced off with a wheeze and collapsed flat on his back.

Towering above him was a figure of elegance and precision: Gears, the bartending warforged. Copper plating gleamed like molten amber, and faint arcs of steam whispered from vents in her arms like sighs from a sleeping forge.

Bobi blinked up in stunned reverence.

[color=gold]“Oh…”[/color] he breathed. [color=gold]“Oh no.”[/color]

He sat up, beard slightly askew, eyes wide.

[color=gold]“You’re... magnificent.”[/color]

Critter scampered back to his chest, puffed-up and traumatized. Bobi barely noticed.

[color=gold]“That plating... the curvature... That’s not just engineering. That’s art. Gnomes could never.”[/color]

He clutched his chest dramatically.

[color=gold]“By the moons, I think I’m in love.”[/color]

Just then, his eyes flicked sideways—toward the barstools.

The dwarf. Still seated. White-haired. Same beard. Same vibe. Definitely not a fungus elemental.

Bobi frowned.

[color=gold]“...Huh.”[/color]

He leaned closer to Critter and whispered,

[color=gold]"Not a fungal threat. Still highly suspicious. ”[/color]

Critter rolled his eyes and thumped his tiny fist against Bobi’s chin.

[color=gold]“Alright, alright,”[/color] Bobi muttered. [color=gold]“Eyes on Beardface. I’ll handle the tall, shiny one. Classic misdirect-and-flirt. We trained for this.”[/color]

He straightened his coat collar and tried to lean casually against the bar.

It came off more like a soggy raccoon trying to sell discount treasure maps.

Did he care? Not one bit.

[color=gold]“Spy work, darling.”[/color][/color]