A sly smile emerged on her heavenly features. "Future hubby, you created this wonderful bath for us to enjoy. As a lady with the noblest of hearts, I wish to return the gesture."
Having said that, she reached into her storage ring with a flourish. A moment later, a heavy, ornate bottle materialized in her grip. It was a deep obsidian flask with veins of glowing crimson running along its surface, pulsating weakly like molten metal beneath a cooled rock. A thick, silver wax seal covered the top, embossed with a stylized hammer and anvil.
"Molten Anvil Mead," Vex announced in a sultry tone. "Brewed by the famed dwarven master brewer, Torbjorn Emberdraft, high in the frozen peaks of the northern parts of the Alliance of Elvardia. They say it's so potent it could melt an anvil—hence the name."
This chaotic woman then tilted her head to the side innocently, but obvious mischief was brimming in her eyes. "Would you care to share a drink with me?"
