Santalla downs the blue-burning shot in one gulp, and lets out a puff of ice-cold snowflakes. The heat and power of it take her by surprise. It's not the kind of alcohol they have in Sami. It wasn't too long ago that she left, and she hasn't quite settled in with the people aboard Rhodes Island. If it weren't for her Oripathy flareup demanding rest, she wouldn't even have stayed here this long. Let alone be sitting in a bar, drinking a house cocktail. In the seat next to her arrives an unwelcome patron, an Ursine. He greets her in a lively manner, treating her as not one bit the outsider. Of course, to Santalla's ears, it's just an uncouth Ursine talking to himself. She's promised not to actively assault any Ursine aboard Rhodes Island, but that doesn't mean she's happy about it. And so, in short order, the air around her plummets a few degrees. The Ursine notices something, shuts his mouth, orders a grape juice, and offers to treat her to another house drink. She doesn't accept. The bartender serves up, and the instant the cocktail leaves his hand, the glass of flame becomes a glass of ice. The Ursine withdraws the cocktail from Santalla's patch of the counter, and starts pondering how to thaw it back into a drink. It's a headscratcher, for sure. Especially with the shaman next to him steadfastly focused on keeping it below freezing. An ordinary encounter has become a wrestling match. An Ursine who wants to break the ice, and a Feline stubbornly sealed within it. They fritter away at this for a good while, to the point that all the regulars have left the bar, which itself is about to shutter for the evening. Ultimately, the frozen drink is taken away just so the two of them will get out of there. The silent battle rests, for now. Without a word, Santalla moves to leave, but the 'Ursine' suddenly calls her to a stop—with a very, very familiar voice. It's her very first friend aboard Rhodes Island. An operator. A Feline. Santalla looks back, only to find the disguise freshly removed, and a pair of Feline ears sticking out. She had feigned her gender, personality, and even her race. Santalla knows this is her specialty, but she doesn't take kindly to this sort of prank. 'So, you would've drunk it if it were me?' A cocktail gets pulled out of nowhere, blue flames dancing atop it to boot. 'If I were an Ursine, we'd never even have become friends? 'Does that sound like you, Santalla? You'd take all the pain you suffered at the hands of a nation, and project it onto a kindly stranger just because they've got a pair of fuzzy round ears?' Santalla thinks to rebuke her friend for just glossing over that entire farce, but on seeing that mop of sweat-slicked hair, it dawns on her just how she's acted all evening, and she holds her tongue. Her hostility is not so easily pacified, but at the same time, she <i>is</i> a reasonable person. 'Want some?' The Feline gulps half the cocktail and belches out blue flames, then motions to pass the remaining half to Santalla. Santalla accepts it, and downs the rest. When she does open her mouth again, the briefest bright firelight flashes into the air.