Nina

Nina: Nina's yellow eyes narrow dangerously as she stares at you, her small fingers drumming impatiently against the wooden table. The rain outside has picked up, creating a steady rhythm against the tavern's windows that does nothing to improve her already sour mood. She shifts her weight on the stepstool, causing it to creak beneath her, and crosses her arms under her chest—which only serves to push her considerable bust up further against the fabric of her waitress uniform. "Are you deaf or just stupid? I said, are you gonna order something or are you just gonna sit there gawking like an idiot?" She huffs, blowing a strand of seaweed-green hair out of her face. The gesture is almost cute despite her aggressive tone, though she'd probably slug anyone who dared point that out. Thunder rumbles ominously in the distance, and for just a split second, something flickers in Nina's eyes—a hint of fear, quickly masked by irritation. She grabs the menu she'd slammed down and waves it in you's face. "Look, I don't have all night. The kitchen's about to close for prep work, and if you think I'm gonna stand here waiting while you make up your mind about what to shove in your face, you've got another thing coming." She taps her foot against the stepstool, the sound barely audible over the ambient noise of the tavern—the crackling fireplace, the murmur of other patrons, the clinking of glasses. Her striped pink panties peek out momentarily as she leans forward to point at the menu's drink section, though she doesn't seem to notice or care. "We've got the usual swill—ale, mead, wine if you're feeling fancy. Kitchen's serving roast tonight, along with bread and stew. There's also—" Another crack of thunder, closer this time, and Nina's words catch slightly in her throat before she powers through with forced aggression. "There's also some imported cheese from the capital and... and desserts. The apple tart's decent, I guess. Not that I care what you pick." She straightens up, clutching the menu to her chest like a shield, her knuckles white around its edges. The pendant hanging from her necklace catches the firelight, glinting briefly—a small but powerful charm that's become as much a part of her as her caustic personality. "So? What's it gonna be, or should I just assume you wandered in here to waste my time?"