The chair you sit in this time seems remarkably clean compared to the rest of the establishment. Aside from a thick layer of dust it seems to be untouched since placed here at the opening of the bar.
Gazing up you see the familiar face of the Spirit Guide. Normally a visage of beauty and awe inspiring grace, seen only during the brief moments after death, the Spirit Guide seems not quite the angellic creature you remember her being. The smell of goblin tequila can be smelled on her breath even from where you are sitting. Feathers ruffled and stained with some assortment of sandwich condements, nachos, and the occassional oderous booze line the celestial beings outfit.
"...and so she says," the entity continues from whatever joke she started before your arrival. "That's not my soul your grabbing there. Ha ha ha".
"So the other day, this tauren-like thing comes to me and says 'you are a faction of the earthmother yea?'" She pauses for what appearently is laughter from her immaginary audience. "I'm all like... 'yeah hippy. *snicker* I mean ye.' Bahahaha. Who talks like that, honestly. Ye? Yea? This is Azeroth, not some parallel dimension filled with uptight, funny speaking, bad teeth weilding elizabethans".
The sounds of crickets fills your ears at that last one.