[ She's the sort that usually prefers drinking in solitude — to make a thoughtless activity of it, letting the bottom of a bottle kill time — but despite his conspicuous face paint and imposing stature, she finds the present company not at all intrusive. Tolerable, certainly, and maybe even a bit welcome. She gives his introduction more attention than she might have otherwise, perhaps even a little entertained with the formality. ]

It holds some now. [ Meaning, that is. Her wryness persists: ] Ortus Nigenad of the Ninth, who was recently a squid — and wanted to drink, but not enough to get drunk. A fucking paragon of restraint for the sake of his lady's honor.

[ And in return, for enduring her teasing: ]

People call me Andy.