OOC: Gotta love RP physics. And Barbarans. X3

IC:

Remi drew her cloak about herself and stepped to the side a bit, her little soap box speech over. Glancing at Kal sharply for his comment after she had spoken, in the end she opted not to say anything--she didn't want to bring the subject into the light again, and it was too late for her to mention anything anyway.

So instead she assented, "Yes, a drink is the next best thing, I suppose... but let's not get into any drunken fights, hmm?" She followed Mat into the tavern once more. The child Kyree ran from his hiding place behind Alexander ((which is a very cool name, I'll have you know)) to her and tugged on the edge of her cloak. The assassin stopped and looked down.

"Thanks for saving me from the angry crowd," he said, a beautific smile in only the way a child's could be on his face.

She actually smiled and reached down to ruffle his hair. "I was glad to. I know how it feels to be all alone in the world without anyone to help you," she confided to him.

He smiled again and seemed to understand her words--if not consciously in his little mind, then on a subconscious level--and ran back to his now-designated keeper, the one who had found him: Kal. Remi, before continuing her walk to the tavern, glanced back at the three men remaining.

"Coming?" was all she inquired before setting off again.

Kal caught the child and boosted him onto his shoulders.

He then went after Remi, momentarily saying, "Do not touch my sword. For your sake, don't touch it."

Rike nodded, rubbing his jaw. He looked behind him with a measure of pride at the trail of blood and gore adorning the street he had used to enter the town before following the others to the tavern. It didn't occur to him that the surviving members of the town, the ones not bloodthirsty enough themselves to try a mass witch-hunt this early in the day, might feel uncomfortable in his presence. Thus, he assumed the shuttered windows as he and the others passed were a result of prejudice... for the angels, of course. Nobody likes angels.

"Puh," she said to Kal. "Why would I touch your sword? I don't even like big swords like that." ((*snerks*)) And with that, she entered the tavern after Mat did. She wasn't one to normally drink--or be associated with--a group of people (let alone people as... diverse as these) for an extended period of time, and she wasn't sure she wanted to start now. However, despite her reproachful feelings toward companions, something inside her told her that she wouldn't be leaving their suddenly formed little group. She ignored that something and concentrated on the free drink.

"I wasn't talking to you."

After Kal got in, he ordered water for the child and an ale for himself.

Not half bad he decided. Not near strong enough to get him drunk, but enough alchohol to give him a partial euphoria.

She glowered at him as she sat down and ordered a mug of mead. "Nice of you to indicate who you were speaking to," she said. Getting back in her irritated, close-up self like getting into an old pair of shoes, Remi brooded over her drink in silence.

It took all he could to keep himself from cracking a smile as the little banter ensued between Kal and Remi. He was always one to watch people so it gave him some enjoyment to see the interaction between people of conflicting personalities. He looked over to the barbarian, He probably knows that I'm an angel, he could smell it. Wonder if I should let the others know too? As that thought passed through his head he felt his cloak begin to slip off his shoulders. His hand bolted up and cought it before it slipped off and revealed his wings. He had forgotten that he had loosened the knot when Rike had shown up. He tied his the knot back tightly and went back to drinking his water.

The assassin cast Alexander a sidelong glance, not turning her head, as he caught his cloak before it fell. Narrowing her eyes a bit, she shrugged it off and went back to her drink. "How many rounds are you buying?" she asked Mat instead.

As is custom in the Northern Isles, Rike swung his weapon onto the table where his companions sat. The table, a might weaker than those Rike was used to, creaked with agony under the weight. The noise of this formality bought a few seconds of awkward silence from the few nervous bar patrons. Rike looked at none of them, only sat in the chair left open-- but obviously not designed, considering its size-- for him. He grunted his order to the barmaid and leaned back, the rickety chair groaning under his weight.

Kal dropped his massive sword on the table as well.

Someone behind him said, "Small dicks, huh?"

Kal turned and gave the man a very very icy stare. The man whimpered then ran.