She gasps. "No! Pie will never die! Say it isn't so!" Looking around as if demanding answers, her gaze settles accusingly on an empty barrel. "You are to blame for this. See that the situation is corrected. Immediately!" She crosses her arms, waiting a moment, and then narrows her eyes. "Well. You've called my bluff. This time."
Arfur Dumas, in debt, the worse for drink, and holding up the bar like he still owned it sings..(badly)....
Who ate all the pies?
Who ate all the pies?
You fat bard
You fat bard
You ate all the pies!
"Cancelled? That's unlike Andrew. I was looking forward to swapping recipes."
Arfur Dumas stands at the bar, nearly sober. Before him a three quarters eaten pie lies unattended. A mug of ale drunk midway. "Half empty or half full?" Dumas quips at the barman before moving on to watching the progress of a spider threatening to spin a web along the selection of rare bottles displayed above the bar. "Where is a bard with the answers when you need him." He drums his fingers on the bar.