Dwarf Lover, The Beginning, Page Four: There was something in the way the broad said, 'More Ale?' that screamed 'Mount me like a Dwarven War Horse.' But I just couldn't get past the foetid breath and the peeling skin. It was going to be the Broken Hearts Inn for the poor troubled thing. Gary: You checkin' out 'er ass? I didn't have much to say to the halfling. Well, nothing polite, anyway. And I was here to mend hurt feelings, not to make more. Gary: Hey! Pudgy! Ya gonna order me an ale? I figured I'd either buy him a drink or he'd steal my money pouch anyway. Halflings are like prostitutes. One way or another, they'll make you pay. Or they've always got a hand in your pants. Or they'll suck you dry. Or they both have hairy little toes. Or you just can't wait to bang the shit out of them.