[b][Kresnik][/b]
Kresnik, for the most part, ignored the interaction between Missile and Bruce the Sharkman, tapping his index finger upon the bar as he rested his head upon his palm. The dhampir gazed off into nothing, only to be interrupted by Bruce yelling for Davey the alien cook. "My, for a waterbreathing meal-to-be, you certainly have a strong set of lungs," he muttered to himself. He was amused by the second-hand order for his food, but that amusement quickly faded as the elf appeared by them. "By the Dead Gods and all the thirteen circles of Hell, there's not enough curses in this tongue or any other to describe how annoying you're becoming," Kresnik snapped, glaring at the elf. Whether or not the bard heard him, Kresnik was unsure as the drunken fool fell out of his seat due to drinking something called a "Gargleblaster." [i]What a stupid name for a stupid drink...[/i] he thought, crossing his arms as he stared at the two of them. He then quickly turned to look at the other patrons. The Hunter sighed and allowed himself to relax.

"Elf," Kresnik cooed. "Why don't you go and prepare us for our journey." As if to emphasize his point, he took a sip of his brandy. The dhampir's eyes widened in surprise, his gaze turning to his drink, and without hesitation he took a second sip. "Now this is a brandy!" Kresnik exclaimed, mostly to himself, as he looked at the drink for a moment longer. He sat the beverage down and then glanced at Missile and Locien, curious as to whether or not the girl would take the bait of his previous comment.