Quite nippy this evening, Edward would say. He grabbed the lapels of his coat and pulled it tighter around his slender shoulders, though the thin, ornate coat was designed more for form than function. Blasted high society vestments. He shivered with a mixture of frustration and legitimate discomfort at the cold, then grabbed his upper arms and trudged onward. At least the hand cannon hanging behind his back provided a bit of insulation, though none that he could feel. 

As he sauntered along the beaten path and ascended to the top of the hill, he could see lights twinkling in the darkening foreground. He picked up the pace a bit. Light meant Warmth. Food. A dram of scotch. Ladies - Hopefully. 

Actually - speaking of ladies - just a week ago, Edward had the pleasure of conversing with a lovely bounty hunter by the name of Pallas in another run down tavern to the east. Enraptured by her confident gait and sharp eyes, Edward simply could not let the opportunity go. All the court women at his father's estate were unnervingly petty and quarrelsome, and being able to talk to Pallas - an actual rational human being - was quite a refreshing experience. Alas, talk was as far as their evening reached, and by the end of the night, Pallas headed west, in search of her bounty. Pity. Didn't bounty hunters need a place to sleep? 

[i][color=6ecff6]Wait a second.[/color][/i] Edward paused and fiddled around with his fingers, pointing them this way and that. Which way was which.. [i][color=6ecff6]Aha![/color][/i] East was the opposite of west. Perhaps Pallas would be headed in the same direction. The fates still smiled upon him, even on this rather disappointing journey. 

By the time Edward reached the twinkling lights, it was completely dark, and the only light came from within the building save for a single torch illuminating a sign. [i][color=6ecff6]The Bawdy Dog.[/color][/i] What a dreadful name. Shrugging off his ambivalence, Edward strolled into the tavern.

Greeted by the fragrances of wood fire, ale, sweat, and other human stenches (Including what smelled like drastically bad breath), Edward looked around at the establishment. It was warm and cozy for sure, but this place was a messy, smelly dump by all accounts. It didn’t take the son of the the Hart-Ellington estate to deduce that. More than that, the tavern was filled with all sorts of seedy looking fellows. Pallas was no where to be found. But beggars can’t be choosers. 

[@BlackCat] [@SilverWolfAngel]

Going up to the bar, Edward noticed a young silver haired girl with an eyepatch who looked entirely unfit to be alone at a tavern. How odd. He watched her tentatively approach the similarly eyepatched bartender (What are the odds?), extend her finger and… produce words out of thin air? 

Without thinking for a second that it would be rude, let alone dangerous to approach her - she was just a young girl after all, what harm could she do? - Edward put his hand on her shoulder, interrupting her transaction with the bartender. 

“[color=6ecff6]My dear girl, how on earth did you do that?[/color]”