Grouse Thicket Whiskey please

"And I did not swear eternal love to you in gratitude and marry you on the spot?" Wraen pretended to be surprised and then broke out laughing, because the guy was just that good at spinning the impossible tale. "So rude of me, I hope that you find a place in your pure and noble heart to forgive a lady," she said and wiped tears away from her eyes.

"The same goes for me. Let's call it destiny then," she agreed and nodded in agreement. "It's Gwendolyn Clancy Firestorm of the great and noble House of Reneverminds and ton of other fancy titles that I won't mention out of mercy to your ears and brain," she grinned. "Friends call me Wraen. And you were Sir Reginald Wrongfoot, right?"