[Past] Ninety-Nine Bottles of....One Bottle of Bad Whiskey

A brow arched along with his shoulders, shrugging. “Pfft, Neither. I’ve seen my share on the road. Your face is... interesting, but lacks anything overly threatening.” Ruth’s hand played with the tankard, thumb and pinky, drumming back and forth across the rim. His grin slipped to a slight smirk though. “And, I’m not all little.” Brows wiggled just so, before he scooped back up the tankard. “But then you’re not interested in a game, so, I’ll leave you to your wee lonely corner.” Raising his hand to his forehead, the elf would toss a mock salute, feet treading backwards to leave him.