Squatter paused in the midst of his applause to greet Lush with a lazily inclined beer can. Indeed it was not Trappiste, instead being Roper's Old Bizarre, but it went down well nonetheless. Two beer cans clicked together as all eyes focused once more on the stage with varying degrees of success.
'Bravo! Bravo! Well done!' he called with gusto, making a mental note to read the roleplays more often. 'I like awards ceremonies,' he continued. 'There's always plenty to drink.'
Suddenly he realised that Heren was asking him the most bizarre question of the evening. 'I favour swords,' he replied. 'But I believe that my answer was never given, so perhaps we could defer our duel until after the ceremony. I shouldn't want either of us to miss it due to an attack of mortality. Have another beer.'
Passing his would-be opponent a can of bitter, and now sadly beginning to think like a character in one of Sheridan's odder plays, a bemused Squatter returned his attention to the vitally important matter of the next presentation, which, he decided, could not be made sooner.
[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: The Squatter of Amon Rûdh ]
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Man kenuva métim' andúne?
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