[ She slowly lowers her hands and gaze back down to her lap. The moment of silence that follows is probably answer enough, but she quietly responds, her voice wavering in her throat. ]

Elves... They live somewhere around- 'round four hundred years. Me... People like me...

[ She sniffs hard, wipes her eyes. Her voice is tight, kept between the two of them. This bar is filled with mostly Outsiders, but even drunk, Marcille is trying to keep her Deep Lore to herself. ]

I'm going to-... to live longer than all of them.