His spirits were much improved by the notion of drinking, well, spirits - although Conall had not made it any further than actually getting to the bar when he was interrupted by the very same woman, who evidently had no patience to wait for her new pot of tea.
And further - evidently, Conall observed - her stern manner beforehand had been her in a good mood, because now she was hissing at him with all the venom of an affronted basilisk. He stared at her rather impassively for a moment, brow furrowed in befuddlement, but she did not seem to have that basilisk power in her look... although the poor boy at the bar looked petrified enough.
Conall cleared his throat in resolution, and straightened up a little further (whether in offence or pride at being called a ruffian to his face, he did not deign to admit), although he turned more directly to the server. "Ignore her," Conall said cheerfully to the boy, not usually the one to soften a blow - but in this case... "What she means is she'll have a tea, if you will," he instructed, half-expecting the woman to try drowning him out with complaint, in spite of the fact that he was catering to her impatience, and all! "I'll have something a bit -" stronger, he finished wordlessly, rounding off his order with a conspiratorial gesture at the nearest bottle of whiskey displayed.
Conall would leave it down to the boy whether his employer would be worried about him spending money on a whiskey. What else was the bar for, eh? (Besides, if he were the boy's employer, he knew which insufferable patron he'd want thrown out of the place first - and for once it wasn't him.)
And further - evidently, Conall observed - her stern manner beforehand had been her in a good mood, because now she was hissing at him with all the venom of an affronted basilisk. He stared at her rather impassively for a moment, brow furrowed in befuddlement, but she did not seem to have that basilisk power in her look... although the poor boy at the bar looked petrified enough.
Conall cleared his throat in resolution, and straightened up a little further (whether in offence or pride at being called a ruffian to his face, he did not deign to admit), although he turned more directly to the server. "Ignore her," Conall said cheerfully to the boy, not usually the one to soften a blow - but in this case... "What she means is she'll have a tea, if you will," he instructed, half-expecting the woman to try drowning him out with complaint, in spite of the fact that he was catering to her impatience, and all! "I'll have something a bit -" stronger, he finished wordlessly, rounding off his order with a conspiratorial gesture at the nearest bottle of whiskey displayed.
Conall would leave it down to the boy whether his employer would be worried about him spending money on a whiskey. What else was the bar for, eh? (Besides, if he were the boy's employer, he knew which insufferable patron he'd want thrown out of the place first - and for once it wasn't him.)
