"Chug, chug, chug, chug -- yeah! Thas' tha spirit, lass!" The Thunderbrew server cheered as Sam slammed her empty mug down on the counter next to a dozen others.
Sam smirked. "Nothin' to it." Maybe I don't drink much, she thought, but I can still hold it when I do!
She'd thrown herself into the celebration, even purchasing an official Brewfest dress from the vendor. And she'd committed herself to trying everything the celebration had to offer. She'd already packed away so many helpings of pretzals, cheese, and sausage that she felt a little like a stuffed meat dumpling. Which she'd also been eating plenty of.
Thank th' gods for these loose skirts, she thought fervently, smoothing them over the taut bulge of her stomach. To the server, she chimed, "Hit me again!"
"You got it, lass," the server said, pouring out another drink. Sam tossed it back in one thirsty gulp.
"Well, if it isn't Slicer Sam," said a voice from behind her. "Never see you here, do I?"
She turned around. "Hello, Mike."
Two-Bits Mike, an old human partner of hers from her days in the Dwarven District of Stormwind, stood there with a wicked half-smile on his face. "What's the game, Slicer? I've been watchin' you eat your way from one end of the grounds to the other. When you go off your diet, you don't do it by halves, do ya?"
"I don't do anything by halves."
"Not even 'eat a cheese wheel'," Mike nodded. "I've noticed. Careful, Slicer, hard to pull jobs when you can't fit through the window."
"Haven't ya heard?" Sam said. "I'm out of the game. Scored big. I'll leave the petty burglaries to you."
"Retired, hmm?" He looked her over. "Fattenin' yourself up for civilian life, then, are you? Can't say as how I mind; if I'm rememberin' our little roll in the hay right, you've got a woeful lack of the usual dwarven cushionin'."
Sam popped another dumpling in her mouth. "Wmmph, ymmph seemed happy enough with me at the time."
"Ah, Slicer, beggars can't be choosers, is the thing. Give me a proper dwarven girl, all plush an' pillowy, over your rock-hard abs any day. 'Course, the way you're eatin', you'll be a proper dwarven girl in no time flat."
Sam frowned. "Just 'cause I'm not countin' ever calorie doesn't mean I intend to get fat, and don't you forget it, ya skeevy beard-chaser. My metabolism can handle a little party now an' then."
"Oh, really?" Mike grinned wickedly, pushing a few errant strands of slick, dark hair out of his eyes. "Care to make a wager?"
Sam thought for a moment.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author