“You have a wonderful scent”, the woman slurred, her voice even huskier in this intoxicated state. She wasn’t looking at him, which gave him the impression that she was talking to someone else - the drunk man just feet away cheering on one of the fighters.
“Lavender”, she said, still focused on the brawl, muscles twitching in her arms as if she was as involved in the fight as the two drunks, even though she looked relaxed and her arms were crossed just under her generous bosoms. When she wasn’t dressed in fur, they were really calling for attention, especially with this plunging neckline revealing a lot of cleavage - and to Ondolemar’s frustration; a curiosity that didn’t have anything to do with her simply being a hero.
She turned her face towards him, met his gaze, corners of her mouth tilting upwards. “Lavender really makes my head spin.”
Ondolemar tried to not look confused, straightened his back to at least try to fool himself that everything was as it should be. “How’s your ancle?” he asked.
The woman laughed. A warm sound from the depth of her throat. “Why, aren’t you a sweetheart, going all the way down here to look after little old me?” Her accent, and maybe the fact that she must be a little tipsy, making some of the syllables disappear at the tip of her tongue in a soft mumble. “I’m alright, thank you.” Then she smiled again. “I told you I would see you around, didn’t I?” She moved forward, leaving the door behind her and walked down the stairs towards him. Stopped just in front of him, a bit too close to make Ondolemar feel comfortable. She was almost as tall as himself, and he could smell the sweetness of mead in her breath.
And then her arm slid up his back in a manner that was much more familiar than he appreciated, but at the same time he didn't want to back away. “Come, let’s have a drink”, she murmured and guided him towards the door. “I’ll buy the first round.”
“That would not be a good idea”, Ondolemar replied, now regretting that he’d left his desk. This was getting out of hand and he was concerned about his reactions around this human. It didn’t feel right.
“But I insist.” She opened the doors and pushed him in front of her into the warm embrace of drunken laughter, singing and loud but friendly discussions. “You’re with me; it’ll be alright, sweetheart.”
That comment almost made him laugh. He looked down at her with a smirk. “You have no idea of who I am, do you?”
She shook her head, blond waves falling over her eyebrows before she blew them away. “Does it matter? You don’t know me either.”
“That certainly is a bold approach”, Ondolemar stated, “what if I was here to murder you?”
The woman turned her face to him and sniffed the air between them with an absent stare. Then she shook her head again and smiled, pulled a stray tendril behind her ear. “Lavender, what if it is the other way around?” Then she winked and pulled him with her towards the bar in the middle of the room. “Kleppr, dear. Two bottles of Black-Briar Reserve, please.”