Don't believe in no-win scenarios

While Marcella's trying to recover her cool, Ushug looks over with a puzzled grunt. Intent on her game, the elder smith hasn't been following mere small talk, so it takes a minute to replay what's been said to herself. Then she frowns, a big green grimace that pulls her lips tight below her tusks.

Then she breaks into a guffaw.

"You thought WHAT? Hahahaha! Malacath's hammer, that's a good one! Guess all the forge fumes are doing my skin good, huh?"

"Elves age slower than humans," Marcella mutters, rolling her eyes at her business partner's entertainment. "Ushug must have a hundred years on me."

The Orc woman raps her fist on the table, muscles flexing beneath her dress. "Young enough to wrestle either of you under the table!"