"You won't be telling any more jokes about anything to anyone," York insisted, largely unnecessarily. Far be it from York to put anybody down, but if she didn't want Severa to end up riddled full of holes, it was probably a better idea to quash any idea of a career in comedy right about now. She reached underneath the bar for two glasses, holding them together by the handles with a quiet clink. "You're god damn right it was a terrible idea."

She filled both of them from a tap -- some kind of asari version of mead, made with some Thessian version of honey since way back when. Davrax kept it on tap as a personal favorite. York couldn't say she didn't like it. She set one glass down in front of Severa, giving her an expectant look.

"Now, if you've got all of the bar fight out of your system," she said pointedly, taking a sip, "was there somethin' you wanted?"