[b]Casimer Demetrius-Kahn - Helgen[/b]

Still panting somewhat from his earlier exertion, Casimer had returned inside when the worst of it had passed but a moment earlier. Nevertheless, his first response was lost to a dry wheeze of exhaustion; the sound caught in his throat before it could part. The second was more successful. 

[color=DC143C]"One moment, one moment."[/color]

The voice that emerged was deep, guttural - and tired. Illium knew, from earlier encounters, that while this ex-soldier could be short, coarse, and indignant when it came to discussions of the current civil war, a genuine good-nature lurked beneath. When the door swung open it was a moment or two later than promised: a depleted-looking Casimer was revealed. The shirt he wore was patched with sweat; perspiration danced above his eyebrows as he exchanged a haggard look for one more cheerful and endearing. He passed his gaze first to the other man, and then to the steel; his smile widened; broad-set, yellowed teeth appeared to greet Illium.

[color=DC143C]"Capital!"[/color] Then a pause, before: [color=DC143C]"Thank you, friend."[/color]

Looking past Casimer, Illium would find that the house's interior looked like a construction site: tools were scattered across the floor, there was a bucket of cement-like material in the corner; metal, leftover from earlier deliveries, was stacked in a small, neat pile of the center of the room. But with little care for the state of his home, the Imperial pondered the other's question. He narrowed his gaze in the direction of [i]Helena's[/i]; his brow furrowed as he spied the character at the step of the inn.

[color=DC143C]"Those're just travelers, I imagine. Gods know why they'd be passin' through with all that happened.

Heard no word about the Jarl's men or their supplies, anyways. Starting to think we won't see a thing, being honest."[/color]