[TurinTurambar]

Turin, having sat quietly near the stage for some time now (and pinched a few FBW fannies whilst at it) wonders when some mayhem is going to ensue. Having got fed up with the magnanimous verbal pugnatiousness of Mr. Ashton, he decides to have a conversation with him. Loosening Anglachel in it's scabard he saunters meaningfully over to NA's table, noisily spins the nearest chair 'round backwards, straddles it and takes a seat.

At this point Mr. Ashton seems unperturbed, so the Turambar lets his scabard clank against his right boot as he turns deftly to flick a ducket at the nearest FBW and order a coupla brewskis as a conversation starter. The Black Sword thrums in response and those within earshot are suddenly overcome with a sense of tragic despair which passes in a millisecond, seemingly imagined.

"Misssssssster Ashton. Hello, my name is Turin Turambar... some call me 'Marmegil.' I saw you sitting here and thought to myself, 'What sort of arrogant brat sits in the middle of a bar under a swinging lantern with his back to the door?' So I thought I'd come over and... ask."

Now NA feels annoyed and embarrassed, and starts to formulate a suitably witty retort...