Enjoying the view outside, Dain spared Birdie and anyone else he could peripherally see a side glance, but remained a moment longer. He had no constraint on time. Idly, he wondered if any poor soul might come across the land that he'd left behind and make it their own. It was unlikely he'd never go back, and just as he began to feel a pang of homesickness, he turned abruptly and headed inside, puffing away on his pipe.

After moving inside, he thumped the bar top and dipped his head in greeting to Birdie. [color=7bcdc8]"What a grand little f*ckin' place this is. I go by Dain."[/color] He announced, his deep voice sounding gravelly. In the grand scheme of things, Dain wasn't actually terribly that old - especially when compared to the crowd that came through here, most likely - but as a human and one that should have died at least ten years ago, he did give off the aura of a generally gruff old bastard. Where he'd been, most didn't live past thirty, such was the mortality rate from the gutter.  

He puffed on his pipe, and drew in a lungful of smoke. Holding it all inside for a moment and letting it drift out slow, that was his style - all while studying the Fae owner of the establishment. [color=7bcdc8]"Birdie, yeah? A room, and a pitcher of ale, beer, or whatever you got. How much for that? Somethin' to eat too."[/color]

He turned slightly to look at a Gnome who'd asked about his tobacco. [color=7bcdc8]
"Lobelia, some of the best Tabac from India you can find. You ever been to India? Don't bother, it's a hell-hole, but I'll be damned if I won't stop and bust open a merchant train for more of this stuff."[/color] He responded, drawing himself up slightly. He jabbed his left thumb on his chest as he said, [color=7bcdc8]
"Dain. Your name?"[/color]