With half the world's most exotic drugs available on tap, Neit wasted no time in getting roasted. Talking to people was far less interesting than playing out the "spooky mysterious witch person" archetype, and she figured Aryyna could just dig her out of trouble later. Probably.
Dancing. Some nice smokey colours. Tricked somebody into swallowing one of their gold rings, thinking it was a pill. Some lizards? Brain insides? Got somebody in trouble messing with their brain-tubes and turning their mojo off? Accidentally shared what was going on in their head with some random orc whilst kissing them?...
Couches. Fluffy. Noise didn't seem so harsh. Good lights. Fluffy worms, you could eat them.
A pick-me-up drink. That was a good waiter. Nice waiter. Stroke them.
A bottle of cure poison potion was in her hand. Damn it. She was enjoying that. Now she was back to square one.
Where did that waitress run off to? What a little fuck.
Well, she was sober again now, might aswell think about business. The House Ssinjintril folks were absolutely fascinating in their weird bee-wing-feathered outfits. Neit had been after one of those sexy chitinous suits of armour for ages... but as always, their haughtyness stopped her from talking to them on this occasion.
Now, the Siltrinlinath sisterhood folks... Now they both turned her on and made her sick to the pits of her stomach at the same time. Everything they did was so horrifically creative. Nobody else had servants quite that... erm, customized?... Disfigured in such a cute way?... erm, adorably efficient?... At any rate, their aptitude was cutting people into tiny little pieces and putting them back together again, so she didn't really know what to say to them either.
The fluffy noodle-worm-snake cushion things that this couch was made out of... she wanted some...