Watching Dearie try to go hard and Val try to reason and Zar and Aeren not doing much, it appears to be Ruvora's turn again. "So, we want something, you want something else. When there is an impasse, we dwarves got a simple way to see who gets their way. We drink." A beat. "You. Me. Lots of tankards. Whoever keels over first loses. If you win, you give this burg the laugh. If I win, you lead us to your kip." Arms crossed, Ruvora taps a finger on a thick, mailed upper arm while waiting for the answer.