[b]Bradle's Worth Tavern
Victor Strade and Adrian Westley [/B]

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The night rolled in, and with it came the swollen rainstorm clouds. Soon the sky was tipping water in sheets, sending a frothy river down the edges of the buildings, picking up the muck and filth on its way downhill. The quantity of patrons has swollen too, but many of them either retired to their rooms or braved the storm to hurry up the main street towards their waiting families. This left Adrian and Victor sat on one of the tables by the fire, the latter doing some pretty coin tricks that mesmerised the former. Every so often she'd mumble “how…” and make to grab the coin, as if separating it from its host would lift the spell. 

Each time it happened, Victor amusedly sat back and let her thoroughly inspect the coin until she was sure there was no hint of magic, then allowed her to clumsily jam it between her fingers in an attempt to replicate the trick, before frustratedly pushing it back towards Victor's waiting palm. Then Victor would perform another coin trick and watch all the frustration immediately melt off Adrian's face as she leant forward and watched, wide-eyed and silent, either willing herself to unravel the secrets or simply losing herself in the fluidity of the sleight of hand. 

But time passed on, the rain continued to pelt the tavern shingles in droves, and Victor ran out of coin tricks. Feeling a thirst coming on, and all too aware of the quality of water around these parts, Adrian’s fingers crept out to claw at the coin. “I want to try to buy beer,” she insisted, quiet yet firm in her resolve.

Victor stared at her intensely, mulling over the request: “Ok, bring it here.” And dropped the coin in front of her. Adrian's face lit up as she grabbed the coin and scurried over to the emptying bar, weaving in between the chairs and their occupants. She stared at the barkeep until he eventually caught on and came over with a slight smile, asking Adrian what she would like.

At this, Adrian proudly brandished the coin and said “beer,” hopefully. The barkeep gave her a baffled look - not so much at the request but the way it was emphasised. At Adrian's insistence he took the coin but smiled apologetically.

“I'm sorry, this isn't enough. You're going to need another 1.50 for a beer.” At this, Adrian looked mildly annoyed as she slipped off the bar stool and back to Victor.

“I need a hundred and fifty more coins,” Adrian reported solemnly.

Victor stared at her incredulously before forming out another coin and placing it before her. “Try that.”

Taking the little object in her hand, Adrian shot back the same incredulous look - it was like many of the others, only larger and inscripted with different numbers. Not that this was of any concern to the youngling, who was wholly illiterate and certainly sceptical of Victor’s latest offering. She mumbled something about needing a lot more than one before breaking off towards the bar once more and, to her amazement, finally obtaining a flagon of ale which she carried back to the table and set down carefully. “If you drink too much you’ll lose control,” warned Victor. Or could. He wasn’t quite sure how intoxication would affect a werebeast, only that he’d rather not take any chances. Adrian mulled over these words for a while before taking the flagon in her delicate fingers and hoisting it up to her mouth, taking measured but hearty sips. She shuddered at the taste.

“It cannot harm me,” Adrian responded with the calm clarity of reasoning, “I had no control to begin with.”

“You’re talking a lot.” He scowled at her, annoyed at her persistent curiosity. Adrian decided that it'd be best if she kept slugging back the tankard of ale, opting to stare at him unnervingly instead. Their staring contest ended early, with the tavern keep wandering over to their table to announce that their room is ready and hand them the keys.

As far as tavern rooms went, this one wasn't too shabby; the smell of damp most likely came from the leaky attic, and there weren't any visible traces of rats. Adrian immediately started to pick the place apart, opening every cupboard drawer, peeking under the sheets, digging a finger into the straw of the mattress.

“Stop messing around. Sit still,” Victor demanded, his tone growing stricter as a sudden surge of tiredness washed over him. “I’m going to be downstairs talking with the barkeep for work. [I]You’re[/I] going to stay here and sleep.” He sighed, placing his supplies in one of the corners. Adrian watched him, then peered at the pile of supplies, then up to the bed. Victor gestured vaguely towards the bed. “Go on, get. I'll be back later.” On that note, the door shut with a dull clunk, leaving Adrian in the half light of the moon through the gaps in the rainclouds.

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Victor found himself talking to the barkeeper about the locale and rumours late into the night, about how men of his profession were needed northwest in Dun Eamon or east of it by the lakes. Bradle’s Worth seemed to remain steadfast regarding issues pertaining monsters specifically. Allegedly even Kron Nesis was in aid of slayers due the mobilisation of its forces. All of these were viable options; under normal circumstances he would have lunged at a chance to work in more civilised regions, but ever since he stumbled across Adrian forging plans had been tricky. He was still unsure why he was committing so much of his time and effort into guiding her to a safe homestead but there was something unnerving about her. Everything about her seemed off, from the way she ate her meals…

...To the way she slept in a tavern. Adrian had commandeered the blanket for herself but she had gathered it up around her and slept on top of it, on the floor. Victor instead opted to planting himself in the chair for a short slumber.