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[center][h1][color=92278f]A horse is a horse, of course[/color][/h1][/center]
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[indent]Devlin was still standing there with bottle hanging from her grip, considering her options of either returning to her room or sitting at the table she was staring at, when a ‘thump’ caught her attention. Like she was just waiting for an opportunity to divert her petty dilemma, she turned her head quickly to see a man… or was he a horse… recovering from knocking his head on the doorframe while entering the tavern. 

A man with horse legs walks up to a bar and asks the bartender for a strong whiskey. 

The bartender looks at him and says….

Devlin looked away, shaking her head dismissively. She had heard rumors of men who change their form from man to horse, though she couldn’t recall much about them and hadn’t actually seen any before, at least not in human form. Had she seen one in horse form she may not have known what she was looking at. In any case, the new turn of events managed to jolt her from her dilemma. Despite her natural aversion to smalltalk or any kind of conversation with others for that matter, she decided to take a seat at the empty table in front of her. It was, after all, likely that the arrival of this… horse man… would steer any possible attention from herself, thus reducing the possibility of being approached. Besides, she had good reason to eavesdrop on the conversations taking place around her. She hadn’t visited Nadska before, but it was reasonable to assume that such a diverse range of races coming together in a tavern at this very late hour of night wasn’t commonplace, and it was therefore possible that such a convergence had something to do with her own reasons for being there. 

Keeping her hood on, she took a seat at the table, popped the cork from the bottle then, without first taking a drink, she just sat there, hand gripped loosely to the neck of the bottle, staring at the wall on the far side of the room while homing her attention on the chatter taking place around her.[/indent]