Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20141003213306/@comment-3293219-20141008100638

Azarath didn't have to wait long for his drink, the bartender was quite effeciant. He couldn't help but notice, that he was getting some odd looks from the other patrons, he was almost certain that they knew that he wasn't a native of the country. Still, even though it was a short wait, it felt like an eternity, with all the eyes fixed on him, the many whispers about him and Elana, though strangely, they were mostly about him.

The bartender returned to him and placed the cups infront of him before drawing a bottle of ale and pulling the cork, he lifted the bottle a few inches off of the counter before an almighty clash could be heard in the kitchen, prompting him to spin around. From the sounds of it, a tower of plates had been knocked over but there was shouts of panic, coming from inside. It seemed that one of the waitresses had fainted.

"I'll be back in a minute..." The Bartender whispered, already out of breath from the ordeal, he ran into the back to check on the situation, leaving Azarath alone again, with nothing but judgmental eyes and whispers for company. He began to listen, to make sure that they were definitely talking about him, turns out that they were.

Trying to guess where he had come from, most assumed Cyrodiil, others thought Windhelm, none of the whispers were right. If this wasn't annoying enough, they began to make personal comments about everything, ranging from what he was wearing, to his ear, to the scars on his face.

Deciding that he had, had enough, he took the initiative and tried to reach over the bar, however, he was definitely out of reach. He practically put half of his body weight onto the bar as he extended his arm out, as far as humanly possible, to try and reach the bottle. However, it was always a few inches out of his reach, teasing him, like the many whispers going on around him.

Azarath could feel the tension in his stomach, finding himself feeling more and more frustrated at the fact that he was trapped in this hellish situation. As his fingers curled in frustration, he opened his hand and the bottle elevated and flew right into his graps, hitting it heavily as it did so.

The Dunmer gasped as he caught it, it was like someone had thrown it to him, only there was nobody who could have thrown it to him. Looking a little concerned for a moment, he picked the bottle up and poured its contents into the two cups before heading back to Elana's table, trying to avoid the whispers.

He smiled as he saw her, feeling somewhat relieved to be out of that situation and back in her company, afterall, she was the only reason that he was here to begin with.