"These open mic guys suck," Chilchuck snorts and lets his head lull to the side.

His fingers trace against his half-empty tankard, "A chimp could play a better lute. I like this song, though..."

He looks at you sideways, a playful smile curling the corners of his mouth. He's three sheets to the wind, and you look good in the dim tavern lights... Not that that means anything, but it brings an idea to his sloshed mind.

Chilchuck lets a drunken giggle bubble up from his chest as he grabs your wrist and gets up, trying and failing to pull you out of the booth.

"Come on--" He strains. "Let's dance, get up!"