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

It wasn't praise, but Belharra would accept it. She had lived the line of subterfuge and constant snipes - anything that wasn't negative could be perceived as a compliment.

Besides, she knew Mal wasn't the type to dole out accolades. Either because his heart was sewn shut tighter than a flytrap, or maybe because he was afraid of getting hurt.. She didn't know - and she didn't care to dig, either. Everyone had a past. Not everyone had one as exciting and as fulfilling as hers.

"Oh, thousands. This corker's mind is constantly at work." Belharra thumped her brainpan with a dead expression, only her eyes betraying the mirth.

"I could sing a song about ye, if ye'd like." Belharra bowed in an exaggerated flourish, that rogue grin still rolling. "Roi Mal - that's king, ye ken. Would ye like to hear the song? I will sing it for ye, since someone out there has got to say somethin' nice about you."