The smile had been quite genuine, and it continued to remain throughout the woman's entire retort. It was so amusing to not only watch the female expression turn to that of ecstasy, but to watch it turn to outright surprise and indignation. However, the latter was also the case with whomever the Mortalborn was not actively seeking to sway to his favour. To constantly curtsy and flatter the mortals who came before him on a regular basis was a thing he quite resented, for with their fleeting nature those that lived in Qaerris' world were destined to become nothing more than rotting wastrels filling the earth. Though they had their uses and their pleasures, they were ultimately going to fall away and leave nothing behind to show for their existence. What reason did he have to lower himself for them? However, in the spirit of 'cooperating' with both of them, he let a hand rise to his temple, as if he were concentrating very hard. Still rather intoxicated, Qaerris was having a time at trying to piece together the past few hours of his time.
"What was he wearing? Pardon, sir, I don't usually spend my time trying to pay attention to the fashion trends of my fellow townspeople when I'm juggling a drink between both of my hands. All that I can say for sure is that he was wearing some kind of tunic or robe."
Qaerris spent a moment longer snapping himself out of another stupor he had seemed to have fallen into. His gaze kept falling to the table, as if some fascinating object had fallen upon it. It wasn't the case, unfortunately.
Turning towards the woman, Qaerris let a smirk cast upon his lips,
"Did I see him leave? Well, he clearly isn't here anymore. And if he's dead, then I would assume he at some point left. Presumably while he was alive. In any case, I didn't watch for which way he went, exactly. But if you look outside, maybe you'll find some footprints."
Qaerris motioned to the floor, where tracked mud and blood seemed to pool together. The fight had apparently been rather messy for some, and as no other patrons had really come in after the ruckus had ended, it stood to reason that the prints, caked in mud, would lead at least far enough to point a general direction.
A smirk caught upon the man's lips for a moment before he spun around. It seemed that he was quite out of booze, and the conversation at hand was a rather downtrodden, sorry affair. It was a moment before he realized that little by little, he was sobering up. What a tragedy.
"Is there anything else you need, friends?"
"What was he wearing? Pardon, sir, I don't usually spend my time trying to pay attention to the fashion trends of my fellow townspeople when I'm juggling a drink between both of my hands. All that I can say for sure is that he was wearing some kind of tunic or robe."
Qaerris spent a moment longer snapping himself out of another stupor he had seemed to have fallen into. His gaze kept falling to the table, as if some fascinating object had fallen upon it. It wasn't the case, unfortunately.
Turning towards the woman, Qaerris let a smirk cast upon his lips,
"Did I see him leave? Well, he clearly isn't here anymore. And if he's dead, then I would assume he at some point left. Presumably while he was alive. In any case, I didn't watch for which way he went, exactly. But if you look outside, maybe you'll find some footprints."
Qaerris motioned to the floor, where tracked mud and blood seemed to pool together. The fight had apparently been rather messy for some, and as no other patrons had really come in after the ruckus had ended, it stood to reason that the prints, caked in mud, would lead at least far enough to point a general direction.
A smirk caught upon the man's lips for a moment before he spun around. It seemed that he was quite out of booze, and the conversation at hand was a rather downtrodden, sorry affair. It was a moment before he realized that little by little, he was sobering up. What a tragedy.
"Is there anything else you need, friends?"