“Hand this lad a refill, please!” Arthur proclaimed, empty mug swinging in hand.
“Sure thing, sweetie.” The server, a lady who looked to be at the cusp of young adulthood, sauntered over with a confident gait, swaying her curvy hips from side to side with each step.
Stopping by his side, she bent to pick up the mug, the front of her loose-fitting white tunic dropping ever so slightly to reveal the uncovered top of her perky breasts. She was close—closer than one needed to be for the simple action of collecting a mug—but he was not complaining. Her ginger hair, tied in a cute bun, and the small, vivacious features on her youthful face were mere inches away from his. Despite the thick aroma of alcohol in the air, he caught the faintest scent of—*what was it? Ah*—rosemary.
And then she stood up and her body withdrew from him. Her eyes glanced down, below the table. The corner of her lip perked up in amusement.
“Enjoy your meal,” she said with a smirk before heading towards the bar counter.