All Per'dra Raliry could reply was something like "Aubuh-buh..." She'd been so startled by the Elf's sudden appearance, and removal of her absinthe, that it took her sixty full seconds to realize he wasn't a beverage-induced hallucination!
As for the barmaid, Meara, she suddenly glared at the newest visitor to the Drunkard's Haven. "Hey! Ye're going to have to pay for that, and I gave my friend that expensive drink as a special treat to get rid of 'er nightmares!" Truth be told, Meara was as terrified of the Elf as her tale-spinning friend seemed to be. As a tavern-keeper, she'd had to learn the not-so-subtle art of intimidation. Throwing inebriated idiots out on their rears was a skill she'd perfected at the tender age of twelve, learning the trade from her father. However, there was as much chance of her doing that to the Elf as there was of her hair growing in red instead of gray! Rooted to her spot behind the bar-counter, she waited tensely to see what either customer would do next.
Per'dra closed her eyes and took another deep breath. "I really wish you wouldn't have thrown my absinthe out the window," she told the Elf. "However, if I'm ever going to remember exactly what the roar sounds like, I have to concentrate." After a few moments, she continued: "Waiting. Someone is either waiting for me, or for someone else. However, I'm not ready. What I'm doing in the nightmare is hanging in space, unable to move in the utter blackness. It's like I've been condemned to the Great Void, but for what crime? I can do nothing but stand there--float there?--and try and listen to what the rumbling means. It's not thunder. If it were, I would dream of rain."