Welcome to Gaia! ::

Zeke gave the ice in his glass a little clink after it was handed back. A lot fuller than he had been expecting. With a shrug he lifted it to his lips, draining a good quarter before setting it on the bar, gaze lingering for a moment on the man Ever had tried to slug a moment before. He seemed unassuming enough, but if the death glares from America and Taym were anything to go by, looks were deceiving.

On a sharp exhale he returned his attention to Ever, and brows lofted at the obvious flush peeking though Cee's pain job. He was such a light weight. "Want some water?" He smirked, cheeky.

"Been enjoying yourself?" His tone was mild enough, as he helped himself to his drink again.

He didn't react to the joke about his age or the pinch but he did react to his pockets being invaded. He reached out and just as rudely and imperiously as he'd asked Cee for a drink he stole Tubadiah, pulling the treat halfway into the Coat of Professorial Elbow Patches like it was a shivering half-starved kitten plucked out of a dumpster and not a spoiled mini-monster making good use of manipulative sad eyes. This also had the effect of preventing its further investigation of Taym's pockets, where it wasn't going to find anything anyway unless it was looking for cigarettes.

"That works," he said. He'd have settled for anything alcoholic that did not have an Amusing Name or bunch of sugar in it, but America knew what he wanted better than settling. And then, to Paige while he absently scratched the treat's ears: "I hope you're learning a lot about the place."

Maybe the dry cynicism festooning that statement was in reference to sudden short-lived drama, and maybe it was just the way Taym talked.

For a moment Ever just looked baffled, attention resettling on Zeke -- and then he hummed, a low sound, considering. He'd never been this bad of a lightweight before, but drinking on the island had been heavily curtailed. It brought up a question: before he was recruited, was he like this all the time?

"I should eat something." He shook his head a bit, butting shoulders with Zeke and shooting a look around for the food. "And sit, maybe."

At America's shout, Jordan temporarily suspended ill-advised flirting activities to look over at the minor commotion, watching until the minipet had been delivered safely to its protector. He had never been able to quite pin down why he didn't trust Jan, other than the fact that the man was quite clearly faking something. However, even if he'd intended something shady, it probably wouldn't be possible in a crowded room, and the mini had been whisked away to safety, or at least to being further spoiled.

"People," Jordan agreed lazily. "Any fights happened yet?" There probably would be at some point, if there hadn't yet; some people got aggressive when drunk, and there were more than enough personal conflicts to go around. Wards would go a long way toward helping keep things civil, though.

Ferros continued to watch the area by the minipets; Tracey was busy, so he might as well be useful in some small way.

"True enough. I don't think anyone wants to see things busted up. Not tonight." Jordan raised his glass.

"Melvin's got his own problems." Jordan's mouth pulled down briefly, both sympathetic and disapproving. "Didn't expect him to get violent about it though."

He waved a vague hand in the direction of the door and the dilapidated town outside. "Yeah, well, they want to break s**t, they can break s**t that's already broken and uncomfortable and lacking in alcoholic beverages."

"Dossier," Jordan provided helpfully. He sat up a little at the mention of a dream, though, frowning as some vague recollection gleamed faintly in response. "Must've been some dream." He sounded a little distracted, trying to chase down whatever elusive memory that comment had sparked. He wished Ferros weren't out of his head; maybe the dragon could have helped.

"Making plans, getting my s**t together," he offered. "Made a really cool knife. Well, didn't make the knife, but I rewrapped the hilt myself, came out really good." He took a drink, smiling, pleased with himself. "When I get back I'm gonna see who I can rope into building a course."

Jordan smirked wickedly. "Traps," he said. "Lots of traps. Going to be a golem run course. I'd appreciate the help," he added, his tone slipping easily from glee to sincerity, cheerful and pleased. Nothing had gone horribly wrong tonight, and the conversation was a good one.

"I'll show it to you sometime." He nodded, finished his drink, and looked at the glass, a little surprised to find it empty again. "Should probably eat something," he muttered, mostly to himself.