Metaari shrugs at the question with a faint smile. "What can I say? I've had some time to think on them. How's my delivery been?" The blush tells him that it's been pretty spot on, though, so an answer isn't strictly necessary.

The promise of drinks brightens him up and Metaari stands, hauling Merrick up along with him. He isn't holding his hand quite so tight anymore, but he doesn't let go, either; if Merrick doesn't want it, it's going to be up to him. Metaari uses it as a pretense to start hauling the elf across the lawn towards the nearest drinks, though, so maybe it won't be so terribly obvious.

"I was beginning to wonder if the whole thing was a lie," he said when he reached the nearest cask of ale, snagging a mug of it as it's passed out. "Something to shake me off."