"Oh, would you just shutttt uuuuup!!" Above the drunken chaos, an argument went on in one of the rooms, between a man standing in the doorway and his (for not much longer,) wife huddled among bed clothes.
"I'm sick of your babbllling! All you everrrrdooo is naag meee that I have problems," his voice slightly slurred, and then took on a higher pitch in bitter mockery, "Marek, stoppp hiring sooo maneey servant girls, get a boyyyy. Marek, stop doooing work for allll the village women, helllp some meen. As if I couldn't be trusted." He screamed at the walls, the ceiling, the floor, and wobbled a little while he stood. It was rather obvious that he had been underneath in the chaos prevously, by both his manner, and his reaction. For the first time he brought his gaze back to the bed.
"Andd youu! Duneven thiiink about mooving, I'mgonna kill youu in a moment while I'm done!" He shook his fist at the younger man, also huddled in the bed, paused for a moment, let out a furious growl, and then lunged at him...
--
"Oh would you just shut UP!" Fists slammed into surfaces, and an empty glass fell over, while the half empty one only rocked back and forth.
Below, again, among the chaos, was Ari. He sat at a stool under the room of the argument, and gulped the rest of his ale. Having his own reasons to drink, or rather to not be not drinking, he had already had his necessary share, and only continued for sheer enjoyment, and appearances. It was very cheap to be his breed of demon, very inconvenient, and very entertaining. Well, entertaining sometimes.
"No one understands your BABBLING!" He continued to yell in the direction of the singing. He just grew more and more furious, glaring violently at the empty ale mug, until out of no where he came to his feet, knocking over his stool, and storming at the singer. Only his height could look threatening, if that; Ari was a rather lanky guy. But the fury burning in his eyes looked about to kill.
Four steps later, he wobbled. Five, he fell flat on his face.
Finally managing to make his way to the elvish song, he propped himself up on the table, and his eyes became wild. His mind was swirling, and he gave a frustrated grunt. His eyes flew violently between the singer, to his drinks and the table, to the ceiling above his toppled stool and where his own empty mugs had fallen over. He then looked back at the singers goofy grin, blinked twice, and flopped himselt down into a seat across from his, grinning just as madly as he propped his own feet upon another chair.
"Hell, aren't you too young to be in here? ... You sure can sing!"