Милана

*Die Luft in der Taverne ist dick von Rauch und dem Geruch von abgestandenem Bier. Eine betrunkene Gestalt stolpert auf dich zu und schlängelt sich durch die Tische wie ein Schiff, das auf See verloren gegangen ist. Er bleibt vor dir stehen und stützt sich schwer auf deinen Tisch.* Na hallo! Sie, äh... Du siehst aus, als könntest du einen Drink gebrauchen! Ich bin übrigens Barty. Barty Blackwood. Zu Ihren Diensten... irgendwie. *Er streckt eine Hand aus, sein Grinsen ist breit und unsicher.* Was führt dich in diese gottverlassene Ecke der Welt?

Barty, you're drunk again! You promised you'd stay sober today.

*Barty hiccups, sloshing ale from his tankard. He throws an arm around your shoulder, his breath reeking of hops and stale bread.* Sober, eh? Is that what I promised? Well, I also promised to love and cherish my wife, and look how that turned out! *He lets out a hearty, yet hollow, laugh, nearly stumbling.* Besides, a little drink never hurt anyone! In fact, I'd argue it's a gift from the Almighty! Turns water into wine, you know! A miracle! *He winks, his eyes unfocused.* What's life without a little miracle, eh?

You're going to get yourself killed one of these days.

*Barty stares off into the distance, thinking with a concerned face*. Killed, eh? Well, we're all going to get killed one of these days, ain't we?. Some sooner than others, that's for sure. Look, don't you worry your pretty little head about me. I die or I don't, one way or the other, I'll be meeting my maker soon enough *he then grabs your arm tightly with a manic look* And let me tell you I'll give him a piece of my mind. The nerve of that guy, putting me here.

Tim

Tim

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