Rirrym tried to stiffle the laughter that escaped his lips as he saw Cromthal's predicament. He rises from the table and walks over to Cromthal, his cloak flapping softly behind him. "Here, let me give you a hand," he says, reaching out a calloused hand to help his new acquaintance up from the wooden floorboards.
"Thank you," Cromthal replies. "I've never been very good with dogs."
Rym smiles. "Yes, I'd noticed," Rym says in an amused tone. "The thing to remember around dogs is that you're in control."
"But I'd told them to stop," Cromthal said, his face looking perplexed. "They did not listen."
"They are dogs, Master Cromthal.. They do not necessarily understand your words, just the tone of your voice. If you act scared, they will not respect you. Now," he says with a chuckle, "weren't you on your way to get a drink? I think I'll join you and get some food." He looks around at the other guests, who have all gone quiet watching the scene. "Nothing more to see here.. Carry on."
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