"Given your manners, choice of language and demands for drink, there's little reason to think you met him anywhere else but a tavern."

Sparked raised an eyebrow, before bursting into a laughter so loud that it briefly overwhelmed the chatter around the feast table. She leant back in her chair, shaking her head, and giving Arameus a toothy grin. "I like you. You're funny." she said, trying to give him a hearty and slightly painful slap on the back.

"But I make a poor jest at your expense, forgive me M'Lady, I'm Arameus and 'tis a pleasure to met you, and if I may be so bold as to say, I was quite impressed with your ability to handle a sword, with a bit more technique and balance added to your raw power, I would wager you could of bested his Lordship, but then again we're not here to fight amongst ourselves are we?...so what manner of task have you been given, if I may ask?"

"M'lady?" spluttered Sparks, practically choking on the sweet wine she started guzzling between one sentence and the next. "Arameus, I am no lady. I'm a woman, yeah, but I'm not a lady. You and Merrick, goodness...I'm sure you can flatter all the other birds on this table but I just find it irritating. I'm sure a couple of them swoon over gentlemen, at least." snickered Sparks, glancing down the table at the women in particular. She wipes a bit of wine off the side of her mouth with her knuckles, giving Arameus her undivided attention the moment he makes a comment about her sword skills.

"I find it amusing that people call Merrick a lord. Anyways, thanks for the compliment." she grunted, hoisting up the aforementioned boob rag to cover her decency just a little more. "And I have all the technique in the world - he's just flighty and avoided a kick to the manhood, which means he's scared of having his manliness tested. I'd put him down as a 'crumple up in pain' kind of guy. There used to be a man who wandered around Freya who could take several and not even stop to think about it. Mind you, I think all the tattoo ink made him completely numb."

Sparks reached for the wine bottle, but then hesitated. Her expression became one of grim determination as she stood up and hurled it as far away from her as possible - Felynne picked up the bottle grudgingly, as to not cover the meadow with litter. Sparks glared at Merrick with as much hatred as she could possibly muster, waited until he was looking at her, and jerked a thumb to the now-empty spot where her drink was. Hopefully, it wouldn't have taken him that long to look at her - after all, she did just stand up and lob a glass bottle away for no apparent reason.

Somewhat pleased that particular little episode was over, she returned to her conversation as if nothing happened, the only explanation she gave is "I think I would've bested the poncy sap if he didn't decide to give me a shove like a temperamental child and fly off on his dragon. But, haha, just you wait; I will personally kick his arse one day. 'not here to fight amongst ourselves' indeed."

"As for a task, I, uh..." Sparks trailed off, looking around her seat for a roll of parchment. "...Was apparently too good for one..." she manages uncertainly as she glances around the table at everyone else's parchment, wondering if one of them had two. "...So clearly I'm up for some very important task." finished Sparks, with not nearly as much confidence as she had before.

No parchment. No task. Merrick didn't even trust her and her dragon enough to give her a mission. Sparks suddenly regretted throwing away the wine behind her, she just found a much better target; Merrick's chair looked easy enough to fire a breadroll at without anyone looking, right? She folded her arms, scowling. "-Way- too important to have written down on parchment, Arameus. Don't worry about that." she muttered sulkily, turning her attention to Tara. "Did you get two rolls of parchment or something?" asked Sparks hopefully; perhaps there was still a chance.