He hadn't been in Wilwarin Inn's pub in quite some time. Too busy slaughtering cocky bandits and thugs all over town and avoiding the long arm of the law to really stop in for a drink when he did visit Lómëdor. Now that he had some down time, though, and the guardsmen weren't very attentive to his presence, Fendrel decided that a few pints of rum were too good a temptation to pass up. Never the type of person to just 'walk' into a building, Fendrel raised his leg and pushed it forward as his kick forced open the door to the tavern and gave him lead way. The ruckus he caused made several patrons raise their heads up in both annoyance and curiosity, but they merely grumbled and returned to their drinks when they saw it was only Fendrel. Obviously, he was too much of a regular customer to have his actions taken as a serious threat.

"Fendy! You've finally come!" He heard a voice say before his chest was wrapped in the warm embrace of a female's hug. He looked down to see a familiar head of brunette hair and instantly recognized it as Shelley's, a local bar maiden and 'acquaintance' of his. She let him go and smiled seductively at him as she looked into his eyes. Fendrel wasn't much of a romantic, but he was extremely attractive to the opposite sex and easily gained the attention of several lustful women whenever he went to the pub. Shelley was just another one of the girls who lived for the touch of a man and the gold in his pocket. Not particularly keen on spending the gold he had acquired from the corpses of his dead adversaries, Fendrel shooed her away with a flick of his gloved hands. Shelley gave a childish pout, turned her nose at him, and walked away to try and coax another male into pour gold down her pocket.

"See things 'round here haven't changed much," Fendrel muttered before turning towards the bar itself. "Hey Bruce! Get me a pint o' rum!"

"Add it to yer tab, den, 'endrel?"

"You know I'm good for it, man. I just don't feel like paying right now."

"'eah, 'eah. Come an' get it." Bruce said without a hint of anger or surprise at the fact that Fendrel was pretty much skipping out on the bill. Considered he owed a mass amount of gold to the pub anyway. He grasped the handle of his glass and chugged down the darkly colored liquid even as it began to burn his throat. He welcomed the sensation and gave a satisfied sigh as he slammed the emptied container against the counter twice, the silent sign for a refill. It was going to be a particularly well day to get wasted and enjoy the company of some fine women later. He wasn't in the right mindset to pay them now, but he knew that once he had some alcohol in his system, he'd be all over them. He only hoped it wouldn't take as long as last time. He was becoming too use to be drunk that it was starting to take longer than usual. Oh well; it only meant more rum for him, and who could argue with that?