"Looks like you're only partially successful." Snorted Wavorly, grinning rather toothily from behind a bit of un-butler-like stubble. He was still a pirate, after all. Running a calloused hand through his disorderly red hair, the wick shrugged, "Maybe I won't be footing my bill after all."

Corwynn smirked, not deigning his friend and employee with even a dissatisfied glance, blue eyes still fixed on the pair of his own race. Both appeared to be uncomfortable for different reasons, if their body language and hints of their conversation that drifted over the fire, the bug fighting, and the rest of the bar meant anything. He chuckled,

"Maybe, but I might have to order the next round just to make sure. That one can't refuse the second drink, can he?"

"Oh gods." Wavorly shook his head, laughing, "Your turn to order is right."

Gwen came out of the kitchens with a plate that had a silver fish on it, grilled to decency. Nothing in The Widow's Walk was better than decent-- but that was better than most places in the harbor. She placed the plate on his table and offered him a tight 'I don't want to look you in the face' smile before making her way to Cor's table.

"Did you two gents need anythin' else?" She asked with a much more real smile than she'd offered the other gollies.

Corwynn caught the woman's more genuine smile, wordlessly hoping to milk the promise it contained, along with the allure of extra coin, for all the trouble it was worth. The older galdor returned Gwen's smile, though it was something broad and slightly mischievous instead of entirely friendly,

"Indeed," he offered carefully, glancing over her shoulder to briefly eye the other two galdori and their food, "I believe someone needs to make sure their meal is washed down properly. Make sure they're served enough drinks to make their time pleasant, and I promise your evening will be more lucrative than most."

Wavorly smirked at this, hiding his face beneath his mug to keep from laughing.

Gwen blushed. She understood that gollies liked to be friendly towards one another, but why did Cor have to be friendly towards these two?!

"I don't suppose you'd like me t'put yer table t'gether too?" She asked, a hint of sarcasm creeping into her voice.

She could see Wavorly laughing behind his glass and took it as a bad sign. They were definitely making fun of her.

"Together? Oh, most definitely not." Corwynn grinned, white teeth all in a proper row, "I'm just extending a bit of welcome. Just because that's not a common sight here in the Harbor doesn't mean anyone's got to get suspicious about it."

The galdor winked, hint of what could only border on a flirtatious tone on the undertones of his voice. He arched a blond eyebrow and added a question mostly in playful ignorance, "Don't worry ... they can't possibly be that much trouble, can they?"

Wavorly set his drink down and eyed the two galdori curiously, then offered Gwen something of a piratey, placating expression, "It ent every day there's a bunch of fancy folk all in the same tavern. Maybe it's some kind of requirement."

"Not that I usually pay attention to ... convention." Spit the blond gunman with a roll of his blue eyes, "But perhaps it's a bit of nostalgia." Or just a craving for trouble. Either one was probably dangerous. It just so happened that it always came with a hefty tip.

"We're tolerant here at Th'Widow, gents." Gwen told them, her mouth in a hard line, "It ent every day we gotta kick a golly out but that one o'er there managed it."

She sighed and walked to the bar reluctantly, this time bringing two magma's for the fancier gollies.

"Compliments o'the kings golly an' 'is friend." She said, putting the drinks down in front of them.

This, this was too much. There was only so much temptation a man like Charlie Ewing could take, and having multiple drinks set in front of him was his limit. It seemed their dear friends at the other table were intend on getting them both liquored up. Charlie took a good look at them and sighed. It was probably not for the reasons he usually hoped people were getting him drunk.

Well, what did it matter the reason? He had tried, so hard, to be good in front of his sister. Really, he had. Charlie was Charlie, however, and there was only so much he could do about that. It was with a swift and powerful determination that he snatched up his drinks and slammed them back, one after the other. He then began to flag down Gwen, trying to get her to come over. The grin on his face contained more filthy promise than any smile ever seen by mankind previous to that very day, hour and minute.

Laur downed the next drink, if only to stop Charlie from drinking it. Ewwww, this one was icky. Very icky. Burned going down. But she was feeling rather nice anyhow. She saw Charlie's face then, and, even though she was probably as drunk as he in that moment, knew what it meant. "Mmm...Charlie, din't you ge' kicked ou' for tha' lasstime? Don' do it."

Gwen approached their table again, her face wooden.

"Before y'order anythin' I'm required t'make ye pay up front for your drinks and meal." She said severely, trying not to be swayed by yet another cute boy face. He probably had--

Well he was a golly so it didn't matter what he had. It was bad enough he used magic, for Alioe's sake.

Charlie flashed her a devastating smile as he slipped her an obscene amount of money compared to what they'd actually ordered. His fingers lingered on her palms for just a second longer than necessary. "Of course I pay in advance," he almost purred at her. The tilt of his eyebrows and lift of the corners of his mouth implied he'd pay her in more ways than were monetary if she'd just stop resisting so damn much. He was absolutely determined to play it cool, despite being roaringly drunk. After all, this was in front of his baby sister!

"Oes, Cor, I think you're winning over there." Wavorly smirked, watching Gwen's face from across the room, bright green eyes wandering over the warming cheeks of the younger galdor and the sly smile of the older, "Ent too long now until we should consider payin' our tab and sayin' good night."

"Aw." Corwynn mocked pouting, "That didn't take very long, did it?" He quipped, distantly amused, "If it isn't the alcohol that's going to cause the problem, it looks like that young man may suffer from some familiar weaknesses."

The red-headed wick chuckled at this, glancing sideways at the galdor he once called captain, "Y'think?"

"I wasn't asking your confirmation." Taunted the gunman with a smirk, "Is your bet lost yet? Are you going to be staying to do the dishes and scrub under the tables tonight?"

"Ne. I ent seen any trouble yet. Best to wait and see." Wavorly chided wolfishly.

"So be it." Corwynn replied, leaning back in his chair and propping his expensive shoes on the table top, content to wait and watch ... for a bit longer. He was prepared to pay and flee, however, should things turn sour, but he still couldn't see anything really turning foul. Both the younger galdori still seemed to hardly be a threat.

Gwen blushed and took the money, muttering curses to herself as she left the two gollies to it, bringing back more drinks when she'd seen they'd finished the other ones.

At this point in the evening, Charlie's head was a little fuzzy around the edges. He couldn't for the life of him remember why it was so important that he not just take every drink set in front of him. Their waitress was looking awfully pretty tonight. The entire pub was looking awfully pretty tonight. Did one of them want to take him home? Or he could take them home, you know, if that's how they'd rather it went. He wasn't picky, really. Honestly, had she been that pretty the last time he was here?

He hadn't quite seemed to realise he was shouting.

Laur was not quite that drunk yet, and she'd never be a loud drunk. Laur could be drunk in a library and no one would notice. "Charlie!" Her voice was in fact a bit of a hissed whisper, sounding younger than it usually did. "No! Nonononono. Charliiiieeee. You're being stupid. Siddown an' stop yelling."

"Ah, see, Cap'n," Wavorly hissed, grinning a little as he set his mug down on the table top, "Maybe now's a good time to call this bet in my favor and get the clock outta here."

Corwynn looked unamused, shifting his gaze from the red-headed wick towards the two now-inebriated younger galdori. The young man was shouting while his female companion looked slightly uncomfortable but definitely a little flushed with alcohol-induced color. He rolled his blue eyes and looked back at his pirate-turned-butler, "Really? I don't know. Being noisy really isn't enough trouble ... in my opinion, anyway. They still seem quite harmless to me."

The blond gunman grinned mischievously, mocking a bit of placating warmth in his voice, "Although, I suppose I could see your point in considering an early retreat. Soon, but not yet."

The room had begun to sway back and and forth a bit when Charlie decided it was high time that he paid thanks to the two generous gentleman who had been plying him with drinks all night. Well, him and his sister. But what did Laur matter, eh? She was holding up. She'd be fine. He needed... Well he wasn't sure what he needed but he was sure it somehow involved going over there.

There was a moment after he stood up where he forgot, just for a bit, how walking worked, but he sorted it out and managed to stagger over to the table where the two men were seated. He sort of leaned across it, covering as much of it as possible with his torso, looking up and each one of them and grinned in his particularly filthy way.

"I jus' wanna say... thanks fer the drinks." There might have been some inappropriate touching of hands. Really, you know, everyone was looking so good. Maybe these two wanted to take him home. They were getting him drunk after all. Isn't that what drinks were for? "Just wanted to..." and here he tried and failed to make himself seem sober "...say that. Personally."

((...open means open, right? 'Cuz I want to jump in on this. If I overstep boundaries, please ignore me. :x ))

The soft sigh of laughter that escaped her managed to ruffle a tuft of bright-scarlet hair across her forehead, to rustle the delicate dyed fabrics of her robes, and set her earrings swinging playfully as her lips curled into a smile she simply couldn't hide any longer. In fact, the amusement this utterly plastered golly caused her seemed to shake every part of her (except, perhaps, the long ebony braids that covered her back, weighted even further by knots of fabric).

Cezelia had watched the fancy golly couple struggle with their liquor from tables away throughout the evening, thinking with each drink that she ought to go before things got messy. Besides, she had a shop to tend anyway. But things had the potential to get so...interesting. And they had begun to, she smirked to herself as the young galdor approached the gracious fellows who had more or less paid for his evening. She really should get back, she had paid for her dinner hours ago...but trouble was more or less promised, and she hated to give up her seat when she had such a wonderful view. Besides, the best customers didn't come until later, when they had gotten wonderfully drunk and felt more free to tell her which stories they wanted forever etched into their flesh.

The traders and smugglers could come later, she ascertained as she folded intricately decorated hands beneath her equally ornate neck. She was simply dying to see whether or not this golly would get his wish--maybe one of these fine sirs would be taking him, or at the very least his lady friend, home.

Laur finished the last of her ale, bringing her total up to three drinks. Yeesh. At only this point did she realize Charlie was gone. She looked over, found he had gone to see who the men were that had bought them the drinks, and followed, stumbling a bit and catching herself on a nearby table.

One man was an attractive older golly, a bit younger than her father, and the other was either a golly with an incredibly weak field or a wick. She couldn't be sure what with the clothes and the fact that her field detection was not quite right at this moment in time. No matter. What mattered was that her brother was being obscenely loose with these two men, hanging all over the table and even touching them. Even the wickish one. No Almond would be so sluttish, and no Almond would ever stoop to cavorting with wicks. Laur would talk to wicks, maybe, but if she woke up in bed with one she'd check herself into a mental hospital.

"Charlie! What do you think you're doin' onnat table?!" Laur tried to smile, forgetting what her smile actually looked like, and started to tug him off the men's eating surface. Charlie would probably hit one of their drinks with how he was carrying on. "Terribly sorry, gennelmen, m'brother's far too drunk to realize exactly what he's doin' here." Pot calling the kettle black, really, as all she was managing to pull off were his pants. Not really a good plan on her part, but Charlie weighed much more than she, and he was hard to budge.

Corwynn might have briefly startled at the drunk young galdor suddenly on his table, but both he and his first mate-turned-butler seemed rather nonplussed with the overly friendly touching that accompanied the visit. Granted, the blond gunman was far from drunk enough to consider the attention good for anything other than a laugh, but he at least recognizing it was finally time to reap what he'd sewn.

"Well, sir, it was my pleasure to extend a warm welcome to the Harbor to your companion there from some of it's more infamous residen—"

However, as Wavorly laughed coarsely and Corwynn opened his mouth to make a snide comment, the youngest galdor appeared, tugging with a rather drunken desperateness on the other's pants. Oh gods, where was this going?

The red-headed wick was roaring now, "Well, that's definitely money in my pockets now, Cor."

"What, that?" The older man nodded his head in Charlie's direction, more specifically in the direction of his lower half, "If that's worth your coins, go at it. I'm sure there's more impressive out there somewhere."

"Oh, har." Wavorly snickered, "I can't believe you're even hinting at a clocking contest with the young rosh right there."

"From this current perspective," Corwynn grinned wolfishly, eying Laureline briefly before returning his gaze to the young man on his table, "I'd say we have the young lady to thank for even the potential of a contest. Though, I'm not sure I'm in the mood to be escorted out under the circumstances that calls for ..."

His grin broadened at Charlie, practically purring his taunting question, "And just how do you intend to thank us, exactly? Is this part of your plan?"

It was getting late, and the business-woman in her was clicking her tongue. The shop was her life, how could she be shirking responsibility like this? Cezelia desperately wanted to tell herself that even she was entitled to some fun, but eavesdropping on two drunk gollies was hardly reason to lose money. But as the scene unfolded, she saw an opportunity present itself. Perhaps she'd be able to make back her drinks tonight...

Cezelia took a moment to compose herself. It wasn't difficult as she took terrible precautions to assure herself she never looked out of sorts, but she still fluffed her hair and plucked at the collars of her robes. It was awfully important, especially in these situations, that her shoulders be little more than bare: her decolletage and back were her best advertisement. The seamonsters on her chest and back, intermingled with the aquatic flowers on her arms and shoulders boasted the expert workmanship of her grandfather and hinted at what she might be able to do for her clients. After puffing herself up considerably, she pushed herself away from the table and made her way towards the commotion.

"Nice rump you got there," she purred, almond eyes narrowed by her enigmatic grin. She continued past the galdor male, making sure to let her robes brush him lightly. "A prime canvas if I do say so myself." At this point, she was close enough to flash a bit of leg to reveal the endless cascade of creepers weaving their tendrils up and around into the shadows of her robes.
If there was one thing her grandfather had taught her well, it was that drunks made the best customers. ...and that power of suggesting went a long way with individuals under the influence. Bringing her hazel eyes to meet his, she planted her seed: "If you're ever in need of some ink, I can promise you Old Rose's finest..."

Now normally someone desperately tugging at his pants was, in Charlie's book, a good thing. However, no matter how absolutely bombed out of his mind he might be, or become, when the person doing the tugging was his little sister... well, it wasn't such a good thing anymore. Unless it led to other, better things, preferably without Laur being involved.

The taunting from Corwynn sort of stirred his drink-soaked pride, which sort of seemed to expand based on how much liquid he fed it. Something like a sponge, really, only much less useful. "I cannot answer that question directly, as my dear sister is trying to depants me, and it is not suitable for a lady's ears. However," and here he pulled another Charlie face, "I am informed I am quite good at--" Before he could even finish the thought a tattoo-covered wick woman wandered into his sight and was complimenting him. Oh my. There was really just too much for poor, drunken Charlie Ewing to process this evening. He was not really up to using what he concerned his usual keen intellect, and between the tattoos and the pantslessness and the nice, lovely, solid table, he was feeling slightly overwhelmed. There was only one solution to such a problem. Charlie waved his arms wildly, trying to flag down Gwen. "Drinks for everyone within touching distance!"

Gwen heard and sighed. Right. Touching distance... So...that entire table. She approached with a pad of paper and a pen.

"So what would ye all be wantin', then?" She asked in what she hoped was a pleasant voice.

Tips tips tips tips please.

Wavorly was too busy laughing to notice Gwen or hear her ask for orders right away. With a snort and a wipe of his bright eyes, the red-headed wick slowly recovered enough to consider what could possibly make his evening any more entertaining, "Chroves' Erse for me, sweets."

"Oh gods, make that two." Corwynn crowed, chuckling before offering the young woman a broad grin, one that might have bordered on the promising apologetic. He'd make up for his mess, no worries there. At least it was still a containable mess, mostly ... right?

He glanced at the youngest galdor, who, upon closer inspection, simply had to still be a student, practically purring with all the mischief now at his table, "I don't recommend continuing to disrobe if this gentlemen really is your brother. I'm sure there's things that siblings just don't need to share, young miss."

"Coming right up. And for the rest of you?" Gwen asked with another sickly sweet smile.

Laur was rather slow-reacting at this point. As such, she didn't realize her efforts to haul stocky little Charlie off his new friends' table wasn't quite working until it was pointed out.

"Whaddare you insinuating--oh, Alioe! Charlie, that's disgusting!" She said this as if he had undressed himself. "I'll take nothin'. I'm feeling funny. You do this, mister whoever you are?" She gestured wildly at Corwynn, indicating him as the aforementioned mister. "I'll have you know I've never touched drink except for this idiot's interference."

She smacked Charlie across the back of his head, hard. "He'd've drunk it if I hadn't, and lookit what he's doing on two drinks."