"I know." And yet he was doing it anyway. He liked Bellara — and given that he was the one that made her cry, he may as well attempt to make her feel a little better. It was fine. Probably.

Lucanis opened his mouth, but was silenced when the Tavernkeeper slid a mug of steaming, dark liquid in front of him. He looked up, their ever shifting yet oddly comforting visage giving him only the briefest of pauses before he took the cup with a nod. "I am willing to bet no coffee they have will compare to a Antivan roast, but I suppose it is better than nothing." He took a sip, prepared for the worst and found it... not. Terrible? Not great, either. "Earthy. Like —" And then suddenly his knees were buckling. He slammed the mug down just before he fell back, flat on the ground. "Mierda."