Mortals loved their alcohol. That was what Rikive was learning as they went from tavern to tavern and Parael introduced her to all the kinds of drinks humans had created. The little glasses filled with sweet chocolate and the strong kick of alcohol had been one of her favorites. The beer at the tavern after that was a very close second. With each passing drink she grew less serious and a bit more...bubbly.

The Irish Car Bomb had pushed her so over into the realm of drunk that when they left that tavern, she could not stop laughing at their car's pink mustache. When she first saw the damned thing it had easily been the most idiotic thing she'd ever seen. She hadn't even wanted to get into the car out of sheer embarrassment. 

However after a night of proper drinking, she had made her peace with the dumb mustache and had laughed about it for ten minutes. Along with her friendlier disposition came an unsteady walk and she had ceased speaking English. She was drunk enough at the moment that she had forgotten to talk in a language people would understand and instead was now slurring in Old Norse. 

Rikive could still understand English though, so she grinned at the barkeep when he spoke to her and sat down on a stool at the bar. Or tried to, apparently she had lost her ability to sit properly and she fell back on the ground on her ass while Parael spoke to the man. She stared up at Parael with utter confusion as to what just happened. When it clicked into her drunk mind that she had completely missed the stool, laughter erupted from her. 

The light sound rang like a silver bell from her lips. It flowed through the air and washed over the patrons that could hear her over the music playing. The weary 3 AM crowd suddenly grew energized again, as though they had just had a restful night of sleep. 

Rikive stumbled back up to her feet and made a show of making sure she knew where the stool at the bar was before sitting herself down on it. She looked at Tony and Parael, slurred something in Old Norse while pointing down before bursting into laughter again at whatever she had just said.

A man in the crowd took special notice of the laughter and emerged from the crowd like a shadow. He was fairly handsome, with his neatly combed dark hair, deep russet brown eyes and charming smile. Though Rikive wasn't particularly fond of how pale his skin was. It looked like he never stepped out into the sun, which meant he was a soft man of leisure rather than a hearty man that would tend to a farm proper. Besides, something else wasn't quite right about him. Something her drunken mind couldn't place.

"Hi there, I've haven't seen you around before." He spoke to her in a low, inviting voice. "How about I buy you a drink?"

Rikive stared at him flatly, trying to place what was wrong with him. It wasn't his appearance, other than his pale skin. There was something else a bit more alarming than that.

Suddenly it occurred to her and she pointed at his chest. [i]"Thy hath no heart beat."[/i] She mumbled drunkenly in Old Norse.