Silver Insanity

Willoughby raises an eyebrow at the empty glass, swiftly reevaluating the adequacy of his lemonade supply. He refills Ametrine's glass anyway. "No, I am not a lemonade salesman. I am in fact here in my professional capacity as a servant, under that special subheading of my duties which includes rescuing my employers from kidnappers." Which is saying a bit much, perhaps, but Willoughby has taken a shine to the little dragon. An elven lifespan gives one a slightly different appreciation for energy and enthusiasm.

"And what of you, Ametrine? What are you doing here? You haven't, perchance, seen a Hrassa in black boots and a considerably fancy hat go by, have you?"

Ametrine tilts his head and closes one eye tight as he tries to remember anything. "I was just napping on one of those hills over there. I don't remember seeing anybody in boots... wait! I was kid-napping too! Is that why you're here?"

"No, I'm just trying to get some idea of where the other kidnappers went... If you'll excuse me, Ametrine, I think I really should be going. I don't have any time to waste." Willoughby begins clearing the table, though it isn't clear exactly where he's putting the plates.

Ametrine looks on puzzled. "Where are you going, Mr. Willoughy?" Confused by the loss of plates, Ametrine sits on one in the hopes of finding out where they are going.

Willoughby pauses, holding the plate with the yellow dragon on it. "Ametrine, the life of a friend and employer may be in great danger. I have a duty to fulfill, and I must act with speed; I have little time for lunches. I need to find the swordsman called Twill— that's the best lead I have. Do you have any idea whether there's a habitation of some variety nearby, where I could inquire about him?"

"And, if you don't mind my asking, why are stones revolving around your head?"

"I don't know about the stones, they've just sort of always been there." Ametrine says, and sadly gets off the plate.

He starts to slowly meander away when a thought comes to mind. Flying back and hovering by Mr. Willoughby's head, he asks. "Hey! Mr. Willoughby! Can I come with you? Huh, can I? Huh?"

"Well, I certainly don't see why not." Willoughby stands up slowly, brushing off dust, even though he isn't visibly dusty at all. He slowly raises his right hand, palm outstretched, and twists it suddenly, revealing Ametrine's glass of lemonade, refilled. Why not, indeed? A youthful perspective might be valuable, and it must be admitted that traveling alone is often dull.

Ametrine takes a nice, deep breath, and shouts "YAAAY!" as he spins around the packing butler. Not one to pass up the 'nade, he drinks his fill, before taking up a hover beside the butler. "So, where are we going? And how'd you do that with the glass? Can I ride on your shoulder if I get tired?"

"I am presently headed towards the town of Frithord. It's only a short distance from here, and it is entirely possible that the residents may have heard some news of Twill. For the time being, you may ride on my shoulder if you become weary, I suppose. As for the glass— well, it's customary not to reveal those sorts of secrets, I understand."