There was a man. He sat against the wall with his mead. He had eyes like amethyst, trained directly at you. He was missing his usual smirk but he looked no less arrogant. However, you had no idea why he was staring at you. As if you were doing something interesting. Well, other than dancing on the table for the fun of it. He was killing your enjoyment if you were being honest.
Strangely enough, he hadn't taken a drink in at least 20 minutes. It was almost as if you had mesmerized him. The thought almost made you laugh. You turn your back on him and hone in on the drunkard who had begun telling an epic involving a frost dragon and 3 nights of raiding a underground tomb. You were laughing at the ridiculous tale when you saw him sidle up to you from the corner of your eye. You immediately tensed up.
"I actually can't tell how this one ends because he's so drunk. It's rather nice, not being able to predict the twists until the last second. "
"Huh. So only drunkards can surprise you? Nice to know. "
"I can still fend him off if he got biligerant with me. But I can't predict what insults he might use."
"Well, they probably wouldn't make any sense if his story is anything to go off of. "
You both share a look and you realize that he's leaning slightly into your space. You're not sure how to feel about that. Perhaps you could surprise him further if you started actually drinking the mead everyone keeps shoving into your hands. You were stone cold sober; preferring to get high off the energy of the party so you might remember it all tomorrow.
In a single drawn out instant you decided to challenge yourself and snatched the mostly full tankard from him. You downed it in the next instant. When you looked back at him it seemed like he couldn't decide whether to be impressed or pissed that you stole his drink.
"And now I can't tell what to expect from you anymore tonight."
Finally, someone had wiped the insufferable smirk off his arrogant face. Just not in a way anyone had expected. This was going to be good.
