“Hello,” you start calmly. “My name is Alan. Nice to meet you Irontide.” He grunts at you in response. “Forgive me, I'm a bit out of the loop. What is the issue here?”
“I sat down for a drink and your she-beast began screeching,” he tells you.
“That table is our spot,” Gabby explains. “It's reserved, at all times, for us.”
“This table is where we hang out,” Dart pipes up.
“Yeah, then you assholes disappeared, the bar burned down and more importantly we took your fucking table. It's ours now.”
“You weren't even using it.”
“Fuck you, sit somewhere else.”
“Think I'll sit in MY fucking spot like I usually do,” Irontide growls.
You sigh. “Look, she owns the bar. It's her rules, like it or not. Just find somewhere else to drink. There are other bars in town.”
“I'm not going to the Drunken fucking Lion that's for sure,” Irontide rebukes.
Gabby crosses her arms. “You don't leave and I'll have to call the guards.”
Irontide responds with a hearty laugh. “You think the guards will lift a finger to stop me?”
Gabby leans in to him. “Someone has to drag your carcass out of here. And I only make corpses.”
Irontide clenches his fist and it shifts closer to the haft of his axe as his face reddens. Dart's hands tense and you see the leather of her gloves go taut.
>Defuse
>Escalate
>Something else? (write-in)