do NOT tickle me

“Hmm,” Johann hesitated for a moment, as though contemplating how he wanted to respond to her recognition. “Can always work harder,” was what he decided on, though he said it with a smile. “But yeah that’s true. Been playing as long as I can remember. But not everyone’s born with that kinda disposition.”

He was already halfway through his drink, though partly due to the watered down booze. Her other question took a little longer to consider, his eyes scanning to a table of loud, rowdy thugs. “Can’t tell you exactly,” he shrugged, eyes cutting back with a mischievous gleam, “I’m like a Spy. Except not really. I’m more like a really fucking weird chef.” He briefly glanced at his wrist, making sure his sleeve was snug over his bracer. 

“It’s not as cool as it sounds, but it pays the bills. What kinda quests you done lately? Get some good loot?” 

Lup mulled his reaction over briefly before giving a short, simple nod. “True. Not everyone’s willing to work at shit.” That was a fair assessment of it. Maybe willingness to work hard was the gods given talent part? It didn’t really matter though. Lup wasn’t there to think through the psychology of talents. 

The rowdiness a few tables over caught Lup’s attention. A small group of not-so-small guys, drunk and loud, just the sort of obnoxious group she’d target if she were solely focusing on some swindling. “A Spy?” Lup turned her attention right back to the bard at that, looking far more interested. “Well. weird spy chef sounds fuckin’ sweet! That’s far cooler than just an adventurer doin’ odd jobs and little performances from town to town.” 

Hours, days spent writing compositions that would all meet the same terrible fate--Being slam dunked into the metaphorical void toilet. It was a miracle he’d managed to safe anything for his mix tape. Of which he still hadn’t passed onto the elf. 

“Huh. That stinks--” Another round of obnoxious jeers, the drunks a few tables off making unwelcome passes at a clearly unhappy hostess. The half-elf frowned around the rim of his glass, glancing between the elf and the drunks. 

"Pricks, huh?” Another quiet sip, the man’s face an inscrutable type of calm despite the gears turning between his (smaller) pointed ears. 

“Wait like... on the roof? You’re gonna propose up there? That pretty cool. My third dad did that. Rolled out a big scroll on her house.” That’s probably not what the orc meant, but it’s how he interpreted it. “Guess you probably got your like... wedding people in mind already, huh?”

A small bubble of jealousy popped in his gut. He ignored it, polishing off the last of his second drink. 

“Adventuring, huh? Sounds boss.” Johann might have considered that life if he’d had the stomach for fighting. But he’d already disappointed his folks enough as a bard, he supposed as he sipped his drink.

“Heh. It’s a busy place. Just wanna get my name out there. Be seen. Don’t really need to make a buck.” He tapped his lips to the glass, taking a longer swallow. “I’m grateful though. I gotta job. A lot of bards can’t say that. Or even like, people in general, you know? But like. I still want it. Corellon didn’t give me this talent to just sit on my hands.”

“Pretty much. Exploring the world. Picking up some quests if I’m willing and able. Pretty cool, I guess.” Lup gave a shrug of her shoulders, drinking her beer. It wasn’t some glamorous life, but she enjoyed it. She found ways to make coin and get by in each town or city. It was interesting to see different places. Getting in trouble in places was less interesting though. 

He was already halfway through his drink, though partly due to the watered down booze. Her other question took a little longer to consider, his eyes scanning to a table of loud, rowdy thugs. “Can’t tell you exactly,” he shrugged, eyes cutting back with a mischievous gleam, “I'm like a Spy. Except not really. I’m more like a really fucking weird chef.” He briefly glanced at his wrist, making sure his sleeve was snug over his bracer. 

“Gotta make sure everyone knows I’m an asshole,” Johann agreed, as though he knew but didn’t particularly mind that she was fucking with him. “They make me noticable, though.” Especially with the bells that dingled every step he took into the bar. Some of the patrons groused as they heard him, rolling their eyes before turning back to their business. Unphased, he ordered two beers as he pulled up to the counter.

“So what you doing out here?”

“I don’t think that portrays asshole. It more so portrays dumbass,” Lup said with a little chuckle. She couldn’t help but agree that the pants made him very noticeable when he began to walk and she heard bells of all things. She took it back. She loved those pants. Stepping up to and leaning against the counter, Lup shrugged.