[h3][b][i][color=7F7765][center]Lucan Cauldwell[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h3]
[center][b][color=7F7765]Location:[/color][/b] Crossed Swords Tavern & Inn
[b][color=7F7765]Interacting With:[/color][/b] Persephone[/center]

Lucan's interest and curiosity was no where near the degree of Persephone's. Whereas she clearly desired to know more of the merchant - who looked precisely like the kind of man Lucan would rob on the road - and his intentions, Lucan would've preferred to remain entirely unnoticed by the man. He did not speak out however, nor make any effort to stop her from garnering the attention of the man with the large hat, instead reaching up to grasp his scarf, pulling it slightly upward in a feeble and entirely pointless attempt to conceal himself, barely tucking it over his mouth as he watched the man.

It wasn't that Lucan was afraid of being recognized, rather he just wished to remain unassuming, he wasn't in Salarn looking for work, coin, adventure, or anything really. He just wanted to spend the night there, and move on the next day as he had originally planned. He wasn't going anywhere, at least not in particular, and he had no real itinerary he needed to stick to, but Lucan didn't like to be held up, his last encounter with Captain Yorke, the bounty hunter particularly intent on hunting him down, had only been a short time ago, and he figured if he remained much longer, the man would catch up to him again.

Then again, there was not that much harm to just listening to the man, what he had to say might've been interesting enough, perhaps even, should the right mood strike Lucan, along with the appropriate sum of gold and no need to remain in one place, he would even consider taking up whatever work the merchant was looking to offer to the most able-bodied present. As the fat man with the large hat made his way over to their booth, Lucan glanced over to the door, watching as the new, large group of adventurers came in. Almost all of them looked like the sort of do-gooder heroes that he figured this merchant was dying to find, especially the cleric, at least he assumed it was a cleric, you could usually point them out from the mace and the 'holier-than-thou' way they held themselves.

The woman who wandered in along and took a seat at the bar, her face covered in war-paint looked more Lucan's style, she had the kind of rough and tumble weight about her that one only got from a tough, on-the-road warriors lifestyle, he appreciated it. It reminded him a great deal of the other sorts of bandits he'd fight alongside, he always got along with them well, and they were always especially fun to drink with. Tilting his head back away from the other patrons, he set his gaze on the merchant as he approached.