Argentum

The Tavern Owner
One of the worst ways to wake up is to drag the sheets from your face and find yourself staring down a pair of yellow, slit eyes. Even worse is when whilst scrambling away from said beady eyes you find yourself sitting on something scaly and slimy with a rattling sort of tail and very sharp fangs which are now in your arm.

This had been the first of many bad mornings for Argentum.

The snakes signified a customer, but not a welcome one, and honestly, the snakes weren't even the worst part; no, the worst part was said customer never paying his bill, not once, not one coin had ever slipped his wallet in seven years. And to somehow make this worse, the customer had a habit of talking in very long, winding, and boring sentences about maps or hills or something that wasn't particularly interesting to Argentum, or, in fact, anyone, and his stupid little lamp on his tail rattled and clanged and was far too bright and why did he even wear a light on his tail - And the snakes!

Argentum took a deep breath. Warily he looked up, meeting Horizon's stare, and shuffled on his little stool. Tightened his bandana. Adjusted his tasset. Considering his slimey, spikey, snake-ridden awakening, he could really use a chatterbox customer today, and preferably someone who shared his dislike of Copernicus...so, really, anyone but the Knight. Was this Imperial going to say anything, ever?

"Right," Argentum breathed out. "Drink?"