Drinks at Dixie's

[Toaster]

The mercenary lowered her mug back to the table. Glass shards crunched amidst the pooling ale. From the corners of her eyes she could see a few heads turning in their direction.

I just had to ask questions, Olivia thought as she processed Prower's story. She extended a hand to rest it on Prower's, then thought better of it, pulling back. Comforting others had never been a strength of hers; physical touch could trigger all kinds of negative reactions with the admiral being in the state she was in.

"So," Olivia started instead, speaking slowly and quietly. There was no need to attract any more attention from Dixie's other patrons. "A frog woman sawed your arm off and has been holding on to it since the war ended." She flicked a wrist at the barman as he approached with a wet rag. The man hesitated, then backed away at a glare from the mercenary. The other guests returned to their own drinks and conversations, only shooting a few occasional glances at the pair of women.

"And ... where exactly is your arm now?"

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Olivia Sable