Meet Guinness, Albertine Guinness

I guess in retrospect, it had to happen. When you think about it, if you put a dude full of raging hormones in a situation where he's all alone with a bunch of very sexy things, well, sexy things will happen. Gross, juicy, squeaky, sexy things.

Albert's daughter just showed up at my door.

She's dark skinned and has a very thick Irish accent, but there's no way she can be anyone else's offspring. I see it in her eyes, in the way she casually bites anything or anyone even thinking about taking a Guinness out of my fridge.
The first conversation went a little bit like this:

Me: '' Huh, hello! I... wasn't expecting this.. you!''
Her: *gargle* *snrflgl* (foam running down her chin)
Me: '' So... What's your name?''
Her: *hfshrgl* *KRsdEckL* (more foam)
Me: ''Oh, I see you have a sign hanging from your neck... Albertine Guinness... Ok, I guess that's your name!?''

There was also a single line of text under her name:

''Will do stuff for Guinness''

Awkward.

Buuuuut, at the same time, I am in great need of another beer-fridge gnome... the position has been vacant for so long, and I'm tired of fighting off gypsies... They're filthy and won't give up...
Would a mixed-race (mudblood?) gnome/Guinness be a good beer-fridge guardian? I decided to give it a try, but I didn't want to risk my good Belgian beers so I put Albertine in the fridge with a few weak brews (i.e. not Belgian) and one can of Guinness. The next morning there was a pile of dead gypsies on the floor next to the fridge, and all the beer was safe. Albertine was proudly sipping her Guinness.

Long Live Albertine!