[hr][center][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/b3RmLjk2LmRkYTBkZC5VbUZ1YzI5dElFeGhZbVZzYkdVLC4y/golden-jewelry.regular.webp[/img][img]https://i.imgur.com/HvlcxJd.pngp[/img][/center][right][code] The Waystone Inn
Interactions:  Kel [@NoriWasHere] Cali [@Fernstone] Lairëcúma [@Tesserach] Lucky [@DrDistasteful]
Outfit: Rocking that one glove look[/code][/right][hr]

Ransom stopped himself from leaning in as Kel began mumbling at him. He had just managed to wipe the rest of her spew on the side of a barstool, so there was no way in hell he was going to step into the splash zone again. He strained his ears instead and must’ve misheard her over the raucous of the bar, because there was no way that she had called him embarrassing. He wasn’t the one who couldn’t hold his liquor. He wasn’t the one wrapping a tail around the leg of someone out of his league. He wasn’t the one looking like a total asshole here, most definitely not. 

So why then, pray tell, was Cali treating him like he was one?

He tried his best to look shocked as Cali called him out. It was a poor performance, but it lasted so shortly that it wouldn’t even be able to register as a disappointing attempt. In mere seconds, the fish-out-of-water, gasping-for-air thing he was doing with his mouth ceased as his lips sealed shut, the corners fighting to restrain a smile as he choked back laughter. Cali was stealing his best material. Ransom was no bard, but he was quite familiar with being an inspiration. If imitation was a form of flattery, then Cali was mere moments away from shining his boots. 

[color=B21A4D]”Like they both said, [i]embarrassing.[/i]”[/color]

The smug look on Ransom’s face flickered as a barb finally pierced through a weak link in his battered armor. He was transported back to when he was barely more than a boy, standing inside of a dining hall that was roughly the same size as the bar floor but in his mind’s eye was much larger. A man stood at the end of a mahogany table full of untouched plates, his face red, spittle flying from his lips, servants and guests flinching as he grabbed a goblet, flung it with all of his might, and screamed, [i]“He’s an embarrassment! A fucking embarrassment!”[/i] 

Back in the present, Ransom flinched. The insufferable smirk didn’t return, nor were there any more attempts at playing like an offended holyman. The leather of his gloves creaked as his fist tightened. He turned to stone, not staring at Cali so much as looking through her as she unloaded a quiver full of insults at him. Nothing she said about him was true–he’s been poked by enough tusks and horns to know that the only adornments he truly fetishized were some fancy jewelry and a sparkling crown. Yet despite the fact that she was spitting false assumptions it made them all sting more.

[color=B21A4D]“I take it back.”[/color] Damn straight. [color=B21A4D]“You ain’t like every depraved man I’ve met.”[/color] Ransom’s smug smile returned. [color=B21a4d]“You’re...”[/color] Irresistible. Breathtaking. A total stud. The purest form of machismo and kavorka. [color=B21A4D]“...even more repulsive.”[/color]

Huh. Huh? Fuck the bounties and fuck this bitch! Was he just supposed to stand here and take this like he was some kind of saint? There was only so many times a man could turn his cheek before he was expected to spread them. He was better than all of them! Ransom pulled his glove off with his teeth, the taste of iron from where Dev had bit him acting as an appetizer for his bloodthirst. He stepped forward to issue the challenge, but before he could throw the glove at Cali’s feet something walloped him in the back of his skull. Hard. It was a good thing Ransom had such a thickhead or he would’ve gone down instead of just being dazed. The room swam. The tieflings doubled into an actual foursome.

[color=a36209]"Move,"[/color] said the scraggily tabaxi who had just assaulted him.

Move? [b][i]MOVE!?[/i][/b] As if Ransom was the one who got in the way! Whatever happened to apologies? [color=plum]“Hey.”[/color] The tabaxi moved on without even giving him a chance to retort. [color=plum]“Hey!”[/color] Of all the insults Ransom had suffered since the poker game had gone south, not being allowed the final word was the worst. [color=plum]“I said hey!”[/color]

Ransom didn’t even throw a look at the two tieflings before taking off after the cat, unable to carve a clear path through the crowd and the tunnel vision. He shoved and elbowed as he made his way, kicking boots and stomping toes. Normally, the appearance of a stunning elf maiden with hair the color of money would cause Ransom to stop dead in his tracks. Instead, she was just in his way.  As she announced her arrival to the Waystone Inn, he greeted her with a bloodied palm shoved right towards her face in an attempt to push her out of the way, not even registering her as anything other than an obstruction as he slipped through the cloud of smoke and out the door. 

[color=a36209]"Howdy, Undertaker."[/color]

[color=plum]“Good! You’ll need one,”[/color] barked Ransom as he emerged to confront Lucky man-to-cat. He hurled his glove at the dirty snow by the feline’s mudstompers. [color=plum]“I demand satisfaction! Pick it up!”[/color]

The snow shifted beneath Ransom’s foot as he waited for Lucky to bend down and accept the challenge, a knee strike to the face readied in recompense for the honorless cheapshot.