Finian laughed as he saw the table wobble as the man strove to correct it with a book, but saw that Kannah had come to his assistance.
The flow of customers had slowed and the only traffic the door saw were men sauntering out the door, which was, of course, entirely the wrong direction. Finian drummed his fingers and sighed. It was a pity that the Tavern wasn't a wee bit busier, but it was well off all in all. Besides, he thought with a grin, if it was busier there would be no time for fun. And what was life without a dollop (a large dollop preferably) of fun, eh?
At that moment, the door swung open and a tall elf strode into the room. His brows met in a jagged cleft, his green cloak hung limply from his tall body, and water streamed from his body. Finian's brows shot up, and he stifled a chortle. It was not every day that one saw a disgruntled elf.
Vaulting over the counter, Finian approached the man (still trying to smother the grin that would come to his face when he heard the squish of the elf's feet) and said, "May I help you, good sir?"
Behind him, he could see his sister carefully place her feet on his wet footprints and try to mimic his walk.
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