[OOC: OK, then proceeding according to my plan for Fumiko, with a minor variation based on what you have her and Udo doing. Note, btw, that this is intended to give the option -- not requirement, just option -- of writing them out of the story until/unless Alberich comes back, if you wish -- although if you want to keep them around, they're no more "out" than Khoo and Anna-Lisa, and they'll be back in the cold light of morning.]
Fumiko took in this conversation in silence, doing two things: pulling out a compact and putting on her face (which all and sundry had to admit was quite pretty when thus adorned, if in a somewhat overblown style), and quickly draining the bottle Udo had caused to be placed in front of her; so quickly, in fact, that she ordered and drained another one. And then a third.
It was never clear why the next thing to happen happened. Had Udo managed to spike one of the drinks? Had the barkeep? Had
Elke arranged it? (She did have a sly smile on her face now over in her corner chair. There would be a certain symmetry to it; many weird adventures had started after a similar
spiking of a drink at Elke's behest.) Did Fumiko simply have a very low tolerance for alcohol? Whatever the cause, Fumiko's demeanor changed dramatically with that third drink. "You're .. so ...
handsome," she got out without any slurring; that would start one sentence later. She snuggled against her "hero" Udo and started gently stroking his thigh. (Elke was barely containing herself now, and of course, Udo's reaction was predictable.) "You ... shaved my llffe. Let'sh go shome place private and ... shelebrate."
Udo, being Udo, could hardly resist an offer like that ... So the pair lurched to their feet and wobbled out the door, as Udo, being Udo, fired a parting leer back over his shoulder at the small crowd. Fumiko, being Fumiko, just had one more line on the way out, delivered in all seriousness: "My... hero."
That was entertaining, Elke chortled to herself. She called the barkeep over and produced some coins in rather large denominations. "I'm paying for those lovebirds. I'll pay for that mob over there too, on one condition: that they don't thank me for it or otherwise try to strike up conversation." She settled back into her corner seat; acoustics in corners were usually live enough that she could hear what was being said at the table occupied by the Silver Hands ... she hoped.