Neverwinter Forest On some level, food knows its' food.

Any minute now, Belharra expected the real Mal she had come to know would resurface. He seemed so restrained. So polite. Not at all like the angry man he had been the first handful of times they had met (Belharra's trespass had nothing to do with that, hmmmm???). So she watched him out of the corner of her eye the way someone might watch a log on the water, convinced it would turn into an alligator any second now -- or... Malligator.

To give credit where credit was due, Malligator was trying. Belharra smiled in return, finding their posing ingenuine but willing to play along for now. If it saved her a few holes in her hide, what was was the harm in pretending? "Are frilly and quiet mutually exclusive?" Belharra pondered, the cheeky glint in her eye returning. "Izzat so? I suppose there is some fun in civility. Saves us from tearin' at each other's throats an' wot. I for one would prefer t' do that after brekky. Is this a proverbial olive branch or is the goon squad waitin' on yer word in the woods?"