the mountains are calling

Modesty couldn't help but feel this was the way things were supposed to be. The subtle back and forth, good company, openess with none of the bitter butt-hurt that seemed to abound between the good and lawful that maimed children and called it just. Víðarr wouldn't expect them to be anything other than what they were, she was already comfortable in the assessment, and in turn, Modesty would expect no better of them. When he turned the conversation to a friendly test, the weight of the alcohol warm in her belly and turning to her third cup when she rarely drank at all... She felt young again. It had been a long time indeed since she had been like this, and in positive spirits to boot. She had little control of the playful words that slipped from her mouth.

"Is it hot in here or is it just you?" She was clearly interested in the wager, but she felt she had to preface his offer, “Gotta let you know though, I put up a better fight in bed.” It wasn't even a lie, most of her fights had been won by tripping and falling on her opponents. She left the fighting up to those who were good at it. "I'll leave the fighting to my raiders, but I have faith in their abilities. What are you thinking for added incentive?"

“Speech.”