Please read the OOC before posting.
"I'm just sayin'," the greyhead bellowed in the unintentional way of the thoroughly drunk. He gestured at the television, which was showing a game that involved putting a leathery ball into a hoop some distance above the players' heads, slopping beer over his arm as he did so. "So many negative things are said about ritual sacrifice. Nobody ever talks about the positives." Roggi hesitated, then held up a finger. "No overpopulation. Huh? how about that? Healthy respect for government - nobody wants to be on that list. Uh. Whassnext?" He stopped in his tirade for long enough to wiggle a finger inside one pointed ear, turning his good eye on his hand once he'd finished and scrutinising his findings with an expression that made his scar pucker in an unpleasant way. "Global warming!" This time he did shout, and only seemed to realise when the proprietor shot him a look from the other end of the bar.
"Still illegal, Roggi. They lock you up for it, entrepreneurial spirit or otherwise." Nick was sitting on the bar top, cross legged, watching the game and chewing on peanuts from a bowl that was clearly intended for customers. Not that there were any, at that moment; it was a quiet night, though he'd probably still have been on the bar whether there were patrons in or not. Customers loved that relaxed attitude in places like this. He hoped. In retrospect, he'd been doing it for long enough that any damage to his client intake was likely permanent. Along the bar the Elf huffed, taking another swig of his beer only to find that the bottle was down to dregs. He eyed Nick, waggling the empty container from side to side.
"Don't suppose I could, uh.. Just till pay day, you know." The warlock grunted, which seemed to be all the signal the elf needed to reach over the bar and retrieve a top-up.