The Ostlander wasn't unused to sleeping dirty, but he did feel a tad guilty they'd be messing up a bed doing it. Most of the time he'd sleep on a mat or the ground when serving Ostland. "At least we have a room," he said offhandedly, eyes more on the crowd than Camilla. Their Gold being stolen, and he had to admit, someone eyeing Camilla, had his guard up. 

A few rough looking Kislevite lancers were drinking perilously close to their table, laughing and shouting at each other in their guttural tongue. A tired serving wench almost lost her coinpurse and her decency as she served them their drinks, scuttling off as soon as the last pitcher was down. 

Off in the corner, a double table was filled by only one muscled Dwarf. A brooding longbeard with a winged helmet and a huge warhammer laying by his hip, drinking what looked to be his 13th beer this night. In contrast, an Elven magician in resplendent robes stood at the bar, showing utter contempt for the selection of drinks and a reluctance for choosing any. 

Oddly enough, they seemed to be the least roudy of all of the patrons. Men elbowed one another to get to their tables, which inexorably led to brawls and curses. Cyrdic looked just dangerous enough to keep them from bumping into the table, thankfully. "We could be bouncers," he muttered to her. "This district has a lack of them, it seems."

That wasn't exactly his first choice, but unless they could find a guard position or a free company...
[@Penny]