[@Lunar]
Clay grunted and shrugged his now healed shoulder. [b]"Would'a healed on its own in time.[/b]" He mumbles in reply refusing to acknowledge the aid the stranger 'Fenna the huntress' had given him. His arrogance and pride too far beyond that.

[b]"Friend, nah."[/b] he replies to her earlier rhetoric question. [b]"Probably some sad angry lass I slept with and forgot to call back, you know how woman get."[/b] he says with a taunting grin. It's then that Clay sees something or someone that causes him to change his manners. [b]"Clay."[/b] he says with a faint nod before he moves behind the bar to collect a broom and begin sweeping up the broken glass. 

[b]"Anything else you would like to add to your tab?"[/b] he asks mid way through his work.

[hr]
[@Song Book]

The tavern was known to be accommodating to all forms of patrons from every and all walks of life. However only one employee understood the sophistication and level of class that Evalyn would  be accustomed too. And he was no employee. 

Appearing without a hint at the lady's side was a well groomed man dressed in an impeccably fine suit far too elegant for a simple server. Yet his posture and mannerism was of such, over his forearm hung a pristine white napkin bordering an ancient bottle decorated with unrecognisable script and an untouched cork.

[i][b]"May I?"[/b][/i] The sentence was a question but his words were filled with such confidence, control and assurance it was more of a gentle guidance. His voice and subsequent movements were smoother than the liquid that gently sloshed around the bottle and rolled out into the glasses he had pulled from above the bar.

The liquid was a deep swirling red, giving of a noticeably pleasing aroma as it hypnotically spiralled around along the crystaline edge of the glass.