[ As a drink spills over his arm, he swears and twists around to see who the culprit is: a short blonde woman, human perhaps but who knows in this city. Fjord's scowl softens a little as he shakes his sleeve off, eyeing her (suspiciously) not entirely sober-ish gait. ]
say cheese.
I have my own drink, but thank you for the offer.
[ The flattest humour. ]