Sam Duval was sitting at a table inside, clowning around, so to speak. A group of groggy patrons had gathered around him to observe magic trick after magic trick and to partake in tarot readings. Caractacus entered the room shortly after Kij, and Sam found himself wondering exactly what was going through their minds. A flashy introduction like his own at that hour of morning may have put the two off-balance in a way, which he figured was a particularly good way to get them prepared for stressful situations. He very much doubted that they would make it far without a healthy degree of paranoia, regardless of whether it was directed toward himself or toward the undead.

A patron chose his cards, and Sam pulled them out to reveal the results. The Fool, The Devil, The Emperor, The World, The Magician, and the Wheel of Fortune. Sam himself never really cared much for this 'divination' method - it was roughly as accurate for determining one's path in life as sticking one's hand down a badger hole. Or, perhaps, even less so, as sticking one's hand down a badger hole nearly guarantees that one's hand will be bitten, which at least can be predicted, provided one isn't an absolute moron - which most of the tavern's patrons unfortunately were.

He eyed the other side of the tavern, where a couple undead were idly milling about, posing no real threat to anybody and serving the purpose of marking which side of the tavern one really shouldn't start a brawl on. They seemed about as useful as his future companions would be. Speaking of whom, why hadn't the Knight awoken yet...?