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"Still no Heineken," Zell echoed Fenna with feigned indignation.  He shook his head.  "The ale's not bad though."  When she took her drink her bed, he bid her goodnight, then turned his attention back to MacKensie next to him.  She looked super far inside her own head, so he let her stew for a moment before giving her arm a nudge with his fist. "You alright, doll?"

[color=Pink]"The war is coming here, Zell,"[/color] she finally said.  [color=Pink]"To Valhiem.  That is what the Academy thinks.  I'm not so sure how long we have left before we are dragged into it further."[/color]

He pulled a stool up to sit down next to her.  "Welp.  Good job we didn't hang about with the silver contracts, eh.  Hopefully we've got enough time to get this Source Comm message before all hell breaks loose."  He swigged his beer, then mirrored her as he stared into the mug.  "Whoever left that message knew we'd go to the guild.  That person is our one lead in this mad mystery."

[color=Pink]"I feel that whatever our path to success is, to get Fenna and the others home - to maybe go home ourselves - that path might go through the Witch Queen."[/color] He looked at the Frenchwoman's troubled face.  [color=Pink]"I hope I am wrong."[/color]

"Ay," he said, nudging her again. "If our path goes through the Witch Queen... then [i]we go through the Witch Queen[/i].  Head first."  He shrugged and smiled.  "No sense in worrying about what we have no control over."  Clive and Arthur's faces appeared in his mind as he went on.  "Look, we got caught flat-footed today.  We didn't know anything about the world, didn't know how our powers worked properly, or the crystals.  But we're clued in now - heads screwed on tight.  We're going to be alright.  Okay?"

He gave her another (hopefully) reassuring smile before turning back to look behind the bar, hoping his unearned confidence would overshadow the reality of the situation.  In the past, it usually worked, but never had he been in such a grim position with such high stakes.  This was completely new, but no sense in changing now.

"Not sure that gold piece is going to cover this tab you've ran up," Frederick warned.  After pretending to not be listening, he found a space to chime in.

"Not to worry, mate," Zell bounced back, fishing out another gold from his satchel.  "There you go."

That visibly satisfied the barman who went back to other duties.  Zell changed the subject.  "You know, that fruit juice was probably a little on the cheap side.  Not sure I'd feel right counting that as one of the drinks I owe you.  How about we settle that debt another night?"  He let her answer before adding on, "You also owe me one too, now that I think about it.  I seem to remember teleporting halfway across the battlefield to be your knight in shining armour.  Yep.  Seem to remember it quite well."

"So, it's a date then." Perhaps casually slipping in the word 'date' might've gone unnoticed if he didn't raise an eyebrow and give her a sly smirk.  

Classic Marsel Brooks.