It was crowded in Orgrimmar. Xavière threaded her way through the multitude of peddlers and adventurers and stopped in front of the mailbox. She exchanged a slightly creased letter with a medium sized coin purse and grinned.
"Tonight you feast on Kal'dorei souls my dear..."
"Bronxia said she wanted a keg of Dwarven stout to go with her dinner," Zhar'moth rumbled.
Xavière counted her earnings, "I think we can handle that. And maybe some ice cream for the little guy. He's been very good lately. Hardly ever bites anyone."
She walked to the tavern and waved to the innkeeper.
"Hey! There aren't any chairs in this place? What the hell?"