"Bald elf? That sounds...wrong somehow. I guess I have a lot of stereotypes to work past. Bummer. I thought all elves were supposed to be fancy, flowy types. All moonlight and magic. I think I read too many fantasy romances," he mutters, slowly lowering his face to press his forehead against the bar, only to find the curvature of his horns prevent him from laying flat.

"I wanna be badass in battle with someoooooonnnnneeee," Mac whines, tilting his head about until he gives up and presses the tip of his nose against the wood.

"I wanna see the Prince again. I miss his stupid face. Oooooh he hated me. Ahhh. So perfect..." Because of course drunkenly reflecting on your crushes is the best thing to do.