You never did anything stupid. Never were as reckless as your fellow dragon-brethren from the Dervyn dragonborn. And that's what has you wondering what in Heca's Gate went wrong? A young male, covered in the markings of the Voturi, glared down at you, who is currently on his lap, having knocked over his bourbon. If the hunter was peeved before, he's incensed now. "Get. Off." he hissed, clutching his now empty jug so tightly that the handle snapped clean off. A muscle feathered in his jaw.