kings are dying like flies

Even before she'd begun counting Alistair had caught what she thought were faint hints of movement here and there. She couldn't be sure she wasn't just seeing things until the little dwarf finally hissed out a pained response. Hm, whatever happened to him must've been rough, considering he was floating like a sunbleached log in the ocean. He only got a sliver of sympathy from her though. Alistair wasn't the type to commiserate or dote on any poor helpless thing she came across.

"Pft, I don't think I'd waste a good drink on a stranger who so closely resembles a drowned rat. Do you often find yourself washed up in the ocean, or is this a new look?" At the very least she hoped the pint sized man could offer up a half decent story. Padding a slow circle around him, she couldn't resist the temptation to reach over and try to stick her snout under the guy's back and flip him over out of the water. Maybe if she put enough force behind it she'd get more than one flip? That would be amusing.

"Have a name?" she asked in a tone that was a little too casually conversational for the harsh glint in her ruby eyes. Maybe it was because he just seemed to reek of physical weakness, but she found the idea of toying with him for just a little longer to be quite appealing. It was doubtful she'd do any real harm to such a weak and already battered wolf, but he didn't know that, and that was part of the fun.