Thread:WendigoLamet/@comment-34928186-20190724003816/@comment-36459171-20190725164829

On his fourth drink, Devaxion had decided that it would be his last... at least, for the morning. Pulling out several silver pieces from within his bag, he slid them over to the barkeeper, watching the employee swoop up to grab them the moment they had touched the table.

Devaxion was unaware of the tabaxi keeping a weary eye on him, the dragonborn was rather too focused on trying to keep his tail in to avoid tripping, or possibly poking, passerbyers.