"Order 56!" It was nearly dusk and more people were coming in for a drink or coming to stay overnight. Talkina threw on her black dress over her petticoat, and threw an white apron over that before running out of the dressing room. She ran into the kitchen and a burly woman raced over to her and started fixing her dress so it laid straight. "You get Order 56. It's the table on the far right corner, yellow section." She grabbed the plate and spun it on her left hand as she made a grab for the silverware. Other waitresses raced to get food to their customers. It was a little game they played; who could serve the fastest without breaking or spilling anything. The woman made Talkina stand still before she rushed out. As soon as she felt the presure on her back disappear, she walked rapidly out the door. The crowd today was huge. There were a sea of faces, all talking quitely to each other. She walked steadily towards the yellow section of the pub. The people she were serving were two young couples. She carefully set down the two cups, the plates of food, and silverware. She whipped away the dirty dishes and moved along the row of tables. At last, the girl was done with that last table and ran back to the kitchen, where she would wait until she was called again.

Vincent sat down on a seat at the bar. "A Beer Please" He said the the bartender, Vincent's voice was fluently elvish and sound deep and harsh. Vincent brushed his long blonde hair infront of his long ears. He studied several customers with his dull blue eyes. Vincent was tired and he had just came back from a hunting trip and the first thing on his mind was to get a cold beer. Vincent had been here a few times, the beer was always to his liking but he just prefered to eat at his own home. He layed money down on the counter an pushed it forward, now he would wait and enjoy a nice cold beer. Vincent saw waiters and waitresses rushing around giving food and drinks to several customers. Vincent laughed and looked over at the selection of beer that was on the wall behind the bartender.

In the frenzy of activity, even a Drow was able to enter the pub unnoticed. Rhyl'drin preferred it that way; it made his life a lot easier when he could slip beneath people's notice.

Curiously, all of the corners of the pub seemed to be occupied by dark, brooding strangers who didn't want to be seen (that, or they liked the design on the inside of their hoods). Rhyl'drin paused for a moment to re-evaluate the situation, then sat at a table along the far wall. In front of him was the bar, now swarming with patrons in various stages of intoxication.

To most people, the young Drow would have seemed like he was in a day dream. But for the constant roving of his eyes- evaluating, calculating- it was impossible to tell his true intent. For several long moments, he sat in this manner- he did not order anything, to the annoyance of the barmaids, and did not speak.

Finally, he was decided. In front of him, wobbling at the bar, sat a drunk. A person of no interest, besides the bottle of vintage brandy which he seemed to have forgotten was in front of him. The approach was swift, the execution deliberate and subtle.

It did not really require much to distract the poor drunk- it was the people around him who were cause for trouble. The world was just full of too many do-gooders, people who would rush to the rescue before knowing the facts. Rhyl'drin was doing this poor man a favor, after all. The poor fellow needed to buy a set of clean clothes and get a job instead of spending all of his money on booze that he was too drunk to enjoy.

When he was within range, Rhyl'drin tapped the drunk on his left shoulder, then quickly slid to the right. "Who's there?" called the drunk, turning to his left. The puzzled look on his face was almost comical enough to make the Drow laughed, though an observer would probably not have guessed it. The drunk lost interest and turned back to his drink, only to be tapped again.

The drunk reacted a bit more violently this time. "Hoi, stop that nonesense!" he ordered, looking at the man on his left. "If yous wants to play games, best take it outsides, lad."

The accused man stiffened in indignation. "You've been at the bottle too long tonight, chap. Go home and wash the stench off of yer!"

"That's it!" the drunk screamed. He rose to his feet, wobbling unsteadily, with his hands in a defensive position in front of him. It seemed as if the two would certainly brawl then and there... until the do-gooders came in to stop it, of course. Rhyl'drin smiled- they were useful for something, at least. Screened by mob of men who had run over to intervene in the one-sided fight, the brandy disappeared into Rhyl'drin's sleeve.

Rhyl'drin could have laughed for joy as he returned to his table to down the fine liquor. And the best part, of course, was that he didn't have to pay a cent for it. As long as no one had seen him, the Drow would soon be enjoying the (fermented) fruits of his labor.

The kitchen was hot and steaming with food ready to be delivered. The burly woman, who happened to be one of the many managers, tapped Kina politely on the shoulder. "Deary, it's your turn to do the bar." Kina groaned inwardly. There were so many drunks at the bar and the bartender's assistant always dropped glasses, making many of the waiters or waitresses get themselves cut. She dragged on a clean apron anyway. Hopping into the opposite door, she slipped on some fine-fitting black pants and hopped out the door again. Kina balanced seventeen wine-glasses on her tray and walked out the adjacent door into the bar. There seemed to be plenty of drunks that could be kicked out of the pub, but of course, the bartender was secretly oozy himself and hence did not yell at the people. Sighing, she took the glasses two at a time and started to stack them on the wooden shelves.

Kina was on her 29th glass when a man with long blonde hair and dull blue eyes asked something. "What did you say?" she asked in her high pitched voice. She then realized it was something in an elven language. "Oh, yes sir. Coming," she quickly recovered. As she glanced past the elf, who turned to study some of the customers, she saw two of the boys, both shape shifters, chuckling. She threw what meant to be a menacing look at them before turning to the bartender.
"What did her say?" she hissed, her voice only audible to the man.
"He said he wants a beer," the man replied in the same hissing voice. "Get him something fine. He already tossed the money out." The girl turned to see a bunch of coins lying on the counter. She swiftly picked it up and counted it. It would be something fine. She grabbed a beer mug and took a bottle from another shelf. As she poured swiftly, she looked at the other customers. All seemed content and started heading towards the accountant, who took note of what room was full and what was not.
"KINA!" someone growled in her ear. She looked down and saw the glass was overflowing. She looked around for the towel, which she spotted and was just out of her reach. She moved cautiously so she wouldn't bump into another waiter who was helping at the bar. Then something shattered. She felt something sharp rip her pants and hear a yelp coming from the waiter. The bar assistant had dropped a glass again. The waiter limped off and the incident was over. The assistant sheepishly started picking up the shards and placing them in a bin. She continued to grab for the towel, wiped up any excess of the beer, and then gently placed it in front of the man.
"Here you go sir." After that, she spun around and daintily placed the bottle back on the shelf.

Waitress duty again. The burly woman had pulled her into the kitchen and handed her a plate just as Kina threw off her pants. As she towed herself out of the kitchen double-doors, there was a mob at the bar. Another brawl, probably. she thought. The mob was pulling apart a drunk and a cloaked man. The cloaked man made her nervous. She kept an eye on him as she set the food in front of the lone customer. As she walked back to the kitchen, she kept an eye on the man and not where she was walking. Her shoe caught the ledge on where the wood flooring met the carpet and she tripped right into the bar, next to the man.

Vincent took the beer. "Thanks" Vincent said, he took a sip of the cold beer and turned around to watch what happened in the bar After seeing what happened in the bar, it made Vincent smiled. A fight broke out between a Drunk and a cloaked figure. After studying the cloaked figure, Vincent soon realised that it was a drow, he spoke their language but not often. Vincent finished his beer, he placed the mug on the bar and wiped his mouth. He spotted the waitress that had served him fall over, Vincent hopped of his chair and walked over to her. He bent down and helped her up. "This wouldn't have happened if you were watching where you were going and not watching the Drow" Vincent said with a smile.

Vincent let go of her after he helped her get up, He held at his right hand with a smile. "The names Vincent" He said, Vincent looked down at the waitress. Vincent bent down and picked up her tray, he gave it to her and waited for her reply. He often saw people trip over because they were watching something else. It happened to him once, Vincent looked over as the mob pulled apart the Drunk and the drow. The drunk fell over again, Vincent shook his head, he didn't know why people got drunk, it ruined them. Vincent turned to the drow for a moment, you didn't usually see drows, especially in a pub. Vincent turned his attention back to the waitress, this woman appeared to seem different to most humans, He studied her for a moment. Vincent crossed his arms, he waited for the response, it was weird that something like this happened.

"Two Kings" a short dwarf said as he placed his cards down on the table as he glanced at the small stacks of coins. Leroy looked at the Dwarf with a gaze then looked at his cards, it wasn't very paladin like to gamble, but neither was hanging out in pubs, or charging into battle at the first sign of a conflict. He looked at his cards and smiled "Royal flush, read em a weep" All 5 of the other players at the table gave a grimace, they thought Leroy was bluffing and instead he got well over half their money. Leroy scooped up the coins and scooted his cards forward. Leroy spoke in a voice of confidence, he usually did, "deal me in." He turned around to see where a racket was coming from. He saw two men about to brawl, "Great here they go again," he rose up from his chair before and turned back to the players at the table, "on second thought leave me out this round, got a duty to do," the players at the table knew what he was about to do, Leroy was well known in several taverns for his vigilante actions.

He walked over to where the two drunks were about to argue, others were moving to help resolve this before the tavern got trashed. Leroy and the others stood in between the two potential brawlers, "alright whats going on here." he said in voice of authority. "oi this one ere' was a... tappin me on the shoulder, I tole him to cut it out but he didn't stop, I was just trying to drink my brandy, OI where's my brandy," he said barely able to understand him in his drunken swagger. .The other spoke in defense, "I didn't tap him at all," he said, he was not as drunk as the other but he was still not thinking straight. Confusion was clearly across Leroy's face, "you have to be kidding me, you start a fight because he tapped you, you've had way too much to drink, I think you have to go home." The drunkard's face looked confused, "this is ridiculous, he bothers me and I have to go home." Leroy spoke in an intimidating voice, "Either you go home or I throw you out, choose..." The man's finally backed down and lowered his fists, "alright, I'll go back to me wife,"

Leroy walked back to his table, watching and making sure the drunk kept to his word. Once the Door finally closed, Leroy sat down, and waited for the game of poker to finish. He got his hand of cards and looked over to the waiter on duty, she was a half angel, he could tell, he worked with them a lot being a paladin and all. She was small and thin, and attractive. But Leroy was interested in something else from her, "Can I get service over here!"

Rhyl'drin laughed under his breath- he'd started quite a ruckus at the bar, with a large man now standing between the drunk and his could-be tormentor. If he were a few years more youthful, Rhyl'drin would have run in and started throwing punches ate everyone to get a good brawl going. But discretion was a commodity more valuable than entertainment for the Drow. As much as Rhyl'drin enjoyed trying his hand at a little thievery here and there, it was not what put the meat on his table.

The Wilwarin Inn, in addition to having an excellent pub and a hearty home-brew, was home to a breed of clients of a much more sinister nature. It was a place where you could lost in the crowd- a recognizable council-man might spend the entire evening in the company of his mistress there and go unnoticed. For Rhyl'drin, it was a place where he and his clients could discuss things in a neutral location and have nothing to fear from eavesdroppers. The tavern was so loud, anyone listening-in would be horribly obvious.

And it was crowded enough that, if the deal went sour, they wouldn't immediately turn on each other. Nobody got killed, everybody got what they wanted, and everybody ended up happy.

Even now, Rhyl'drin was on such business. He'd been waiting nearly an hour, but he was a patient person. Patience that had kept him alive- in the Underdark as an ambitious alchemist with deadly competition, in the war as a pikemen in the front lines, here on the surface as a a thief, and here in Lomedor as an information broker.

He didn't know what his client wanted to know or who he was even, but too big of a tavern brawl would empty out the Inn, and then the meeting would be unable to proceed. Perhaps stealing a bit of brandy had cost him a much needed job opportunity- Rhyl'drin could only hope that things didn't get too out of hand now.

It seemed that the big man had talked the drunk down, who was leaving now. Rhyl'drin smiled- he would have liked to see the drunks stubble around fighting each other, but he was relieved that the whole place wasn't full of flying bar stools and beer mugs.

The Drow tapped his fingers and began to hum an old song he learned on the moon. Any minute now, his contact would sit down and the meeting would begin. All he had to do was say the phrase "The weather's been meaner than a half-demon these past few days", and Rhyl'drin would know him to be the right man and not an impostor.

OOC: He's not the guy you're looking for.

IC:

Before entering the Wilwarin, Jaz Verdek kicked his boots against the wooden door frame. Clumps of dirt, mud and horse manure accumulated from an hour long hike through Lomedor's winding, haphazard streets dropped from the soles to the wooden steps. Jaz pushed in through the swinging door of the pub, and was greeted by a wall of raucous noise from the drunken patrons. One of the most popular bars in Lomedor, and thus the whole continent of Ea, it was what one would have to expect from the Wilwarin Inn and Pub.

It wasn't Jaz's usual watering hole, that's for sure. He prefered the more low key, friendly neighborhood pubs, where one was likely to know the drunk who randomly chose to pull a knife, and thus depend on everpresent friends to diffuse the hostile situation.

But this was business. Jaz, for one, handn't thought the Wilwarin to be a good choise, simply because it was so well known that pirates, thieves and adventurers from across the lands flocked to it. Needless to say, it wasn't the location of choice for secret meetings, but this time his employer had been insistant. The man had felt that anonymity of the crowd was easier to keep from prying eyes.

Pushing his way to a heavily scarred center table, Jaz let McMullen Jr. drop onto the table's surface. The lizard's tongue and eyes went into overdrive, reacting nearly simultaneously to every loud noise, exotic smell, and quick movement.

Jaz dropped into the seat directly behind the lizard, exhausted from the never ending cylce of rushing across what seemed like half the land in the world of Arda. After the past few months it almost felt like there was no where on the planet that he hadn't visited or at least breezed through.

"The quest for gold goes ever onward, doesn't it my fine scaly friend," He said, as much to himself as to the lizard, "Although there is a silver lining to every cloud, I guess. At least it hasn't been sleeting or raining today. The weather's been meaner than a half-demon these past few days..."

Talkina rushed to get up, only falling down again. Some of the men started to laugh at her. Thoughts that did her no good started to pop into her head. She could get fired from her only job. Worse, some guy could steal her away into the busy crowd and leave her in the middle of Lomedor at night, which was complicated enough to get around in the day. Or she could get suspended from her job, which meant that her contract was still alive but she could not earn any money and she couldn't switch jobs. She just sat there until the same elf she served before came towards her. He said something in elvish, it seemed like a scolding, as he helped her up. Talkina stood still as her world slowly came to a stop. She then thanked the elf. He said something again, this time saying the word "Vincent". She took a bit of time to comprehend it, but at last she figured it was his named. He held his hand out in greeting and Talkina took it daintily. "Hello, Vincent. My name is Talkina." She blushed and her wings slithered out of her back. Gulping, she slid them back in. She was supposed to look like a human, not some half-angel that the inn randomly picked up from a performing angel that couldn't carry her child around. Someone called for service at the other side of the inn. She curtsied to Vincent and then skedaddled back to the kitchen. Switching in her tray for a notepad, she hurried over to the man. "Sorry to keep you waiting, sir. What can I get for you?"

Leroy was waiting for service when he looked over to see the half angel trip. Bar patrons around her laughed, "thats just sad, thats no way to treat a woman." He shook his head and wondered where the waiter was. He looked back to his game of cards, he didn't have too good of a hand. "Ah, I ain't got jack, I fold." He looked back just as the half angel appeared behind him, "Sorry to keep you waiting sir. What can I get you," Leroy had a feeling that the angel was a waiter, "yea I'll just have chicken, and some water I don't want to have too much to drink," Leroy thought of the woman, she had a weary look on her face, and the fact that almost everyone laughed at her misfortune. When she had tripped Leroy saw something that was really odd. She had wings, they barely twitched under her tunic but it was undeniable, why is a half angel stuck here. Leroy wondered this as he waited for the woman's response.

Rhyl'drin just barely was able to hear the half elf speak the phrase he'd been waiting to hear all night. "The weather's been meaner than a half-demon these past few days..."

Rhyl'drin saw the man sitting right in the middle of the tavern. Not the spot he would have picked, but then again, if he'd had his way he would have been using a dead-drop, with a pre-determined location to drop off and pick up instructions, information, and payment regarding the job. Rhyl'drin could appreciate having a reputation as someone who could find out secrets, but he didn't appreciate being someone who people easily recognized. However, people were often uneasy giving their money to someone they'd never met, so the Inn was the next best thing.

Rhyl'drin rose and loosened his dagger in it's scabbard, which was concealed underneath his cloak. He carefully approached the table, going over his pitch in his head. Calm, not too friendly. Don't want him to think you're soft. As he got closer to the table, the Drow could make out a lizard-like form on the table. He repressed his alchemists' instincts to capture the thing and split it's liver open to see if it could be used in one of his many experiments- his client probably wouldn't appreciate it. The man, whoever he was, had a longsword at his belt. Good. With these sort of people, you wanted them to feel like they were in control. A client who saw Rhyl'drin unarmed and believed himself to have the upper hand, and then his guard would be down. When a person was less wary, he was more easily manipulated. Experience had shown Rhyl'drin that in his profession, might did not equal right.

"Aye, but I'm betting tomorrow we'll see some more sun", Rhyl'drin said, reciting the proper response. He took a seat directly across from the half-elf and managed a small, almost friendly smile. "If you don't mind, I'd like to skip right to the meat of the thing." He took a swig from his brandy and continued. "First, the job. Then we can discuss payment." The Drow paused, studying the half-elf closely, waiting for some response, verbal or otherwise, to indicate what he was dealing with. If he seemed nervous, perhaps a higher price could be extorted for the information he wanted. If he seemed to have been around the block a few times with this, it'd be best for both to offer a fair exchange, to avoid any bad blood.

Repeat clients, after all, were the best business.

Jaz was lost in thought as the Drow approached the table. He wasn't expecting his contact to arrive for another hour, and was accordingly startled as the dark-skinned Elf took up position in front of him.

"Aye, but I'm betting tomorrow we'll see some more sun," the drow said confindently, his blood-red eyes appraising the half-elf.

Jaz was suspicious of the Drow from the onset. Dark Elves were known for their malevolence, this stereotype reinforced by the fact that Underdark dwelling Drow's interaction with the surface world came in the form of slaver raiding. Most of the Drow one was likely to meet in the the world did nothing to disabuse that prejudice, as they stereotypically prefered professions based on violence, like mercenaries or assassins. Although this one didn't seem to carry any weapons openly, he undoubtedly had some sort of poisoned shurikens somewhere else on his body. That was the way of things.

And so Jaz didn't know what to make of the Drow as he took the seat on the opposite side of the table. Either he was the most bizarrely friendly Drow ever, wanting to make friends of total strangers, or he was out for trouble.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to skip right to the meat of the thing," the Drow continued, taking down a shot of whatever beverage he was holding. "First, the job. Then we can discuss payment."

Jaz was perplexed. He had been expecting a human of the thuggish persuasion. For a job that involved standing around and looking intimidating, the usual more-brawn-than-brains type was the standard in a bodyguard.

Why did Weneclaus pick this guy?

The Drow seemed to have a lithe physique, capable of lightnening quick motion and practiced eyes that betrayed a cool, calculating intellect. For an assassin, this fellow would fit like a glove. But for a guard? The role of a body guard had less to do with actually killing people than it did preventing people from trying to kill other people. Not to move silently and unnoticed, but to move loudly and very noticed.

Jaz shrugged off the doubts. What Wene wants, Wene gets, I guess.

"Well, to business, then."

Leaning over to the Drow, Jaz spoke in as quiet of a mummble as possible without being completely drowned out by the crowd. "Okay. The job is the Duke's nephew, Renald. Appearently, the youngster has fallen in with a bad crowd, and the Chief Warden of Lomedor feels that he might be running his mouth a tad too much for his own good. He expects that eventually someone will need to take action about it."

Jaz then leaned back into his chair, allowing the Drow to digest the information.

McMullen Jr. stared, on the other hand, continued staring blankly, disappointed by the lack of flies.

Talkina nodded. "It will be coming soon, sir." She walked back into the kitchen. All the cooks and waiters were either staring or glaring at her. She shrunk and ran to the tablets. Chicken, water, Talkina, she scribbled quickly, then set it down the counter. The cook grabbed it and started cooking the chicken. Sighing, she turned to get her next customer.

Out in the tavern again, she picked the middle tables. First, she worked with a couple, then moved onto the family of four. It was tedious work. She went to the bar to refresh her roommate, an elf that was bound to move out of the cooking practice any day. After getting people more drinks, getting yelled at twice, and eating a bit herself, she moved out again. The families were starting to leave as the minutes passed. She got the chicken and placed it on the table where the man was, nodding to any thanks she got. Talkina scuttled into the kitchen once more. Her friends were leaving to go home, for it was getting later into the night. It was the staff that stayed at Wilwarin to clean up whatever was left. Then, a cry rang out through the hot kitchen. The burly woman shooed the girl out the back door, throwing her stuff behind her. The girl fought but was, at last, dumped into the streets. Gulping, Talkina turned and walked out the doors again. Trying not to cringe, she slithered between two drunk men and went into the very inner middle tables. There, she stopped at where a man and the cloaked figure. "May I get you anything, sirs?"

Rhyl'drin leaned back in his chair and took a moment to digest the information. After another swig of brandy, he nodded. "The son of a duke. I'll admit, I wasn't expecting such a high profile job. It's not going to be cheap." Inside, he felt excitement bubbling up. A big hit would mean big money, but it would also mean a big reputation. Rhyl'drin was always cautious of what jobs he took- he preferred to take low-key targets, or usually to just gather information for a client. This was just too big of an opportunity to pass up, though. Success here could catapult Rhyl'drin into the big leagues: no more two-bit spying on store clerks to see if they're cooking the books, and definitely no more following wives around to see if they're cheating on their man.

"Alright." The Drow spoke confidently, looking directly into his contact's eyes. "I'll shadow him a day or two first. It will help me get to know him, and then everything goes a lot smoother. As for the payment... well, I'll leave that to your employer to determine. I trust and hope for his sake that he knows a fair wage." He smiled, letting just a hint of malice creep into his voice. "You can get the coin to me here, 72 hours from now. I'm staying at the Inn- I won't be too hard to find."

Rhyl'drin paused for a moment. He wasn't quite sure how he would pull this one off- sometimes, politicians liked a big splash with a hit. Cutting a guy into several pieces and scattering them around his state room sent a loud, clear message, and intimidation was a huge part of politics in Lomedor. But, on the other hand, sometimes a subtle poison was best for discretion, if the employer did not want it to be so obvious that it was in fact an assassination.

Just as Rhyl'drin was about to ask the half-elf about this, a short waiter came up and asked if she could get them anything. Rhyl'drin shook his head. "No, I think I'll be going now." He turned to his contact. "I'll get started right away. I'll see you here in three days time." With that he briskly exited the Inn, swigging from the brandy bottle as he disappeared into the dark.

If the Drow's appearance had been enough to throw Jaz off, then his manner of speaking was, by far, way over the top.

"Alright. I'll shadow him a day or two first. It will help me get to know him, and then everything goes a lot smoother. As for the payment... well, I'll leave that to your employer to determine. I trust and hope for his sake that he knows a fair wage. You can get the coin to me here, 72 hours from now. I'm staying at the Inn- I won't be too hard to find," he said sly and crypticaly, a hint of mischeviousness tugging at his mouth and twinkling in his eyes.

Jaz had never known bodyguards to be the types for mysterious theatricality. Shadowing him? The kid spent most of his days in fancy dress parties hobnobbing with idle rich, which was exactly the boy's problem. Perhaps this dark elf though the young noble like to skulk amongst the shady casinos and loose women around the docks.

As to why the Drow needed the cash dropped off at the inn instead of just picking it up at the office, Jaz had no clue, but then, everyone had their own way of doing things.

Maybe he's just lazy

It was then that a painfully young brown-haired waitress came up to the table, asking for orders.

The drow shook his head and responded in the negative to the girl before turning back to face Jaz. "I'll get started right away. I'll see you here in three days time."

The Drow made a sweeping about-face, then marched out of the tavern into the night.

Jaz was perplexed at the odd development, this sequence of contract bartering happening far more quickly than the half-elf had expected. No haggling? Usually potential employees made long demands about payment and schedules.

"Well, mission accomplished," he said with a sigh, then turned to serving girl. "I'll take a shot of the strongest drink you've got."

(I think we should end the topic with this. PM me if you want to continue, I'll be happy to do either.)

Talkina nodded to the cloaked figure. For once, she thought he was a drow, but shook the idea off. He was probably just an elf that acted that way. "Have a good night, sir," she called after him. She, then, turned her attention to his companion. "Yes, sir. It will be out shortly." She turned back to the kitchen. The cook was cleaning up and putting the last spices away. Talkina turned to the bar door and walked swiftly through. Getting a bottle from the shelf, she looked at the room while she poured. It was nearly empty, with some lingering customers here and there. The clock on the wall chimed ten times, one for each hour, ending with a higher pitch chime for the half hour. 10:30 at night. Talkina yawned and tipped the bottle up. The bartender threw the towel under the sink and threw her the keys. She nodded sleepily and went out the swinging door and into the tavern once more. She gave him the drink and made clean up rounds. Walking swiftly back into the kitchen, she dumped them in the sink. She started to clean them, but the cook shooed her away. She walked to the bar and started to clean up. Once that was done, she walked back into the kitchen and through the door, stripped her clothes and jumped into her nightgown, and went up the back stairs to her dinky alcove. She took her stuff animal that the inn gave her, jumped into bed, and shut off the light. Soon, she was fast asleep.