Tavern, noun: a place where liquors are sold to be consumed on the premises, often also providing light meals and conversation amongst other tavern-goers. Jredthys was at the Quicksand, which successfully matched all the aforementioned requirements to the definition. Ergo, he should have a drink, along with food and conversation if it seemed proper to do so. It would be improper not to.
Of course, with how the Judge entered the building itself, it was more like he had come to apprehend Momodi for violating a lack of liquor license than to partake of her establishment's amenities. Wearing plate armor from head to toe and a massive blade strapped to his back didn't help matters either, his heavy footfalls giving a tense air about him and more than encouraging any regular to swiftly duck out of his path. Even as he settled down upon one of the bar stools with a heavy creak of metal and the groan of the seat under his weight, Jredthys certainly didn't give off the air of someone simply here for a drink.
He waited, still as a statue, until someone came to take his order. In this case, it was Momodi, after providing Inessa with her coffee and paper. The armored figure looked down at the rather popular owner of the establishment, and the two shared a brief staring contest. It was a bit in Jredthys' favor, of course, since he still had his face-obscuring helmet still on. Finally, the lady Lalafell broke the tense silence between them.
"What can I get for you?"
The response rumbled from deep within the confines of the armor.
"MARTINI. FORBIDDEN: STIRRED, RECOMMENDED: SHAKEN."
Of course, with how the Judge entered the building itself, it was more like he had come to apprehend Momodi for violating a lack of liquor license than to partake of her establishment's amenities. Wearing plate armor from head to toe and a massive blade strapped to his back didn't help matters either, his heavy footfalls giving a tense air about him and more than encouraging any regular to swiftly duck out of his path. Even as he settled down upon one of the bar stools with a heavy creak of metal and the groan of the seat under his weight, Jredthys certainly didn't give off the air of someone simply here for a drink.
He waited, still as a statue, until someone came to take his order. In this case, it was Momodi, after providing Inessa with her coffee and paper. The armored figure looked down at the rather popular owner of the establishment, and the two shared a brief staring contest. It was a bit in Jredthys' favor, of course, since he still had his face-obscuring helmet still on. Finally, the lady Lalafell broke the tense silence between them.
"What can I get for you?"
The response rumbled from deep within the confines of the armor.
"MARTINI. FORBIDDEN: STIRRED, RECOMMENDED: SHAKEN."
~