Traben ignores the other patrons for the moment as he enters the inn. The wolves, as predicted, remain outside, laying in a small heap of fur against the wall next to the door. Taking a seat about a foot away from Cassandra on the same bench, he stretches his legs under the table and his arms above his head.

"Whatever is fresh will do, and a flagon of your finest," he says to the nymph taking orders, his smile never leaving his face. Traben takes his time to unobtrusively study the others in attendance from the corners of his eyes. A dwarf and a human, both likely formidable in a fight. He didn't pay their conversation any mind, preferring to keep to himself.