[Past] You, Me and a Pitcher of Cream

A night out had been on the cards the minute he had entered back into dreary Kirkwall. For all its restrictions it certainly had its bustling underground of criminals keeping it interesting. Ruth and his group had rolled back into the city for a spell and he, like always, sought out the local tavern he knew his friends frequented, looking for one half-elf specifically.

Striding up to the Coterie’s table, Ruth stretched his arms out to the side. “Move over you bastard, the King of fun is back.” He’d offer a mock bow before shoving his way into a space next to Nairn. Ruth made himself comfortable, leaning heavily into the booths fraying cushions. “How you been fucker?” Without asking, Ruth reached for an empty mug and the pitcher of ale, pouring himself a generous helping and bringing it to his lips.

While not a member, he’d helped out a few times or the Coterie had helped his group out, he couldn’t quite remember the how's and whys they’d met, but Ruth was glad they had. It made the healer's time in Kirkwall more bearable considering the hostile atmosphere against mages. His friend seemed distracted though, glancing all too often in a direction towards the bar.