Flamel laughed, but held up his hands as if to bat the offers aside, "I appreciate the offer. But if I can't even let the person that the poetry is written for read it, then I doubt I'll be able to read it to a crowd." He patted his robe where the envelope was, "That essentially gives away the type of poetry it is as well," he said sheepishly, growing red in the cheeks. "And I've been trying to steer clear of the drink. It's temptation is one I choose to deny. It makes me..."Â He paused for a moment as he tried to think of the right words to use, waving his hands around as if conjuring them in the air, "Not...intelligent," he decided, before taking another bite of his salad.
"I'm a lightweight too," he admitted as Abai pointed once more to the tap. This time, he followed her finger to the harbinger of honey goodness. Without realizing it, he had licked his lips. "You're a great barkeep, that's for sure," he sighed, defeated, "I'll have a glass. But please! If I ask for another I implore you to deny me!" He laughed cheerfully as he placed a few gil on the bar; enough for the salad, and glass of mead.
"I'm a lightweight too," he admitted as Abai pointed once more to the tap. This time, he followed her finger to the harbinger of honey goodness. Without realizing it, he had licked his lips. "You're a great barkeep, that's for sure," he sighed, defeated, "I'll have a glass. But please! If I ask for another I implore you to deny me!" He laughed cheerfully as he placed a few gil on the bar; enough for the salad, and glass of mead.
