Zulmire was sitting off to the side, picking apart the cake slice he was given as he tried to determine what all the ingredients were. Because Trolls were mostly carnivorous in nature, the cake was almost entirely foreign to him. Still, it wasn’t disagreeable, and so he nibbled at what he had pulled off and licked his fingers.
Arte watched her mate with an expression of anger written on her face. Although not normally proper about things, she knew they were in a special place and that table-manners were mandatory. Thus, she made the occaisonal two-toed kick at Zulmire’s leg, trying to keep him in line, and to stop him from making a mess everywhere.
She was relieved to be told they were leaving. “T’ank you, pretty miss. I s’pose we be lookin’ after your hut now? Well, not a hut… it bigger ‘den ‘dat.” She nodded, grabbing her mate by the arm, her voice turning very cranky in a heartbeat. “Ey bonehead. You stop playin’ around now. We be leavin’.”
“Whut?” Zulmire grumbled. “At leas’ lemme take come cake for th’ road! ‘Dat stuff be’ good, ‘mon…”