“Well, it’s not exactly like that,” Crow shrugged, absently watching a few men gamble at a nearby table. “I’ve never had just one home, you see. I’m a traveler; I go wherever the wind takes me. You’re right that this [i]is[/i] one of the many villages I’ve lived in, but it isn’t my home town.” He winked at Penelope. “That, my dear, is a secret I’m going to keep to myself.”

he glanced up as an older woman approached their table. He grinned, recognizing her as the owner of the tavern, Evelyn Ansgot. Back when he used to live in this village, she had been the one to keep him under control, always sternly chiding him when he provoked fights—he enjoyed watching the drunken men brawl until they passed out—or rebuking him when he stole from her customers—usually with a wooden cane. Despite this, they held a mutual respect for each other and, while he would never admit it out loud, Crow looked up to her like a mother or an aunt. Out of everyone he would have liked to run into here, she was at the top of his list.

“Can I help you two?” the tavern owner asked without looking up from the pad of paper in her hands.

“Aw, come now, Evelyn,” Crow pouted. “It’s been so long, but I don’t even get a ‘welcome back?’ How cruel.”

“I know that voice,” Evelyn stopped and looked up, squinting at the thief. “Crow, is that you?” She let out a curt laugh. “Well, well, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. You’re not here to steal from my customers, are you?”

“It’s nice to see you, too,” Crow rolled his eyes. “And no, I just happened to be in town, so I thought I’d stop by and say hello to my favorite tavern keeper.”

“Thank you, dear,” Evelyn said. “But you still have to pay.”

Crow clicked his tongue and frowned in disappointment, “You haven’t changed at all.”

“Naturally,” Evelyn smirked at him and then took notice of Penelope. “Well now, who is this? She’s a pretty young thing. Is she your girl, Crow?”

The thief colored slightly as he glanced at the knight, “Um, no. This is Penelope. We’re just… recent acquaintances. She’s never been to this village, so I thought I’d show her around.”

“Mhm,” the tavern owner chuckled softly. “It seems you haven’t changed either, you rascal.”

“Evelyn, please,” Crow hissed, the flush in his cheeks deepening.

“Fine, fine,” the old woman laughed. “What would you two like to drink?”

Crow cleared his throat awkwardly, “Two mugs of your best honey mead.” He sighed as the tavern owner scribbled down his request and walked away. “I’d forgotten how much she enjoys a good laugh at my expense…”