They disentagled themselves, despite Chicken's attempts to remain down beside Thoriel.
Fin led the group over to the bar and ordered shots of whisky all round.
"Come on guys three, two, one."
They downed the shots, Chicken squawking as he finished first.
"Damn poultry!" Fin cried.
"Its because we dont chew," Chicken explained.
"On whisky?" Sophia asked.
"Uh...yes"
"Cool," said Thoriel, a fixed expression of distaste still on her mouth from the whisky
"Everything tastes bad after that awful Mud-water!"
"Can I get you anything," Chicken said quickly, trying to please Thoriel.
"Uh...no" she said carefully, "but thanks for the offer."
Chicken beamed and got the next round of whisky in.
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