Exchanging hellos is almost strange for her given what she's known for. Making friends is never on her agenda, yet here she is with Michael, about to sit down and have drinks with him. Since she became Warden, she's been out more and getting to know those within the Court. Maybe it's for her own sake in some way. She still only tolerates the company of a very select group of people. The rest she'd rather throw her fire at until they leave her alone. Some don't go away that easily either. Lucky for Michael, he's made the tolerable list, even if he might never know about it.
He is modest about his storytelling and it makes Morrighan laugh. She takes a sip of her own drink and it warms her throat as it goes down. It's like liquid fire and she stares at her cup a moment. This stuff could be dangerous for her.
"I'm starting to think you're no storyteller at all and you're just bluffing," she says with the slightest smirk. After he stated his place in the court as such, he seems to skirt around having to actually show his talents. If Isra truly thinks the way he says, maybe there's a reason he avoids it after all.
She takes a sip of her drink again when he suggests she should. It really is stronger than anything she's had before and will probably be the only one she orders. She's only ever lost herself once and that hadn't been when she was drunk. Last thing she needs is to black out and realize she's burned the whole Court down once she finally comes to.
"Or is the only story you know the one about how you're bad at stories? That would be a shame," she snorts, her sarcasm coming to light as usual. Maybe the man will wow her, maybe he won't. It's not like she has much else to do now anyway besides wallow in her thoughts of love and turmoil.
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