We stood out there for about five minutes, the stuffy paladin and the bratty swashbuckler, chatting totally in character:
Felicity: It's a word I picked up in my travels that nobody else knows. Kinda like "hobbits." Rage [the berserker halfling] is the hobbit from hell. He fucks dwarves.
Roald: *looks distinctly uncomfortable*
Felicity: Oh, am I not supposed to say that word in front of paladins?
Roald: It's more the ...behavior. Does Rage realize that when he ...mates with dwarves, no offspring will ensue? Or is he counting on it?
Felicity: I don't know. He's not that bright.
Roald: I shall discuss the virtues of abstinence with him.
Felicity (dreading the coming lecture): Oh. I guess you don't drink, either.
Roald: On the contrary, I appreciate a bottle of fine wine.
(Felicity offers a flask; Roald passes over a bottle of very good stuff.)
Felicity: Just a sip. The guys say I'm not allowed to drink before sundown anymore.
I quote the great