[center][h1][color=0054a6]Tristan the Unworthy Knight[/color][/h1][/center]
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	As Tristan rested in his booth, a serving girl barely younger than him delivered his ale. He observed her, noting her good looks. [b]"Here you go, sir."[/b]  Tristan nodded appreciatively, but she stayed to converse. [b]"You're not from around here are you sir?"[/b] Tristan peered up at the girl. He then sighed as he removed his helm, revealing his mostly-handsome visage, excluding the broken nose. He smiled warmly at her. "[color=0054a6]There's no need to call me sir.[/color]" He looked around at the inn, taking a long pull from the ale. "[color=0054a6]No, I'm not. It took me a long time to get here. I'm thinking about staying for a bit, but I don't have anyone to show me around...[/color]" He ran a hand through his hair. "[color=0054a6]It's a shame really.[/color]" Tristan looked at his reflection in his blade. It was one of the only things in his arsenal he kept good care of. 

	Unfortunately, he couldn't find it within himself to trust somebody with his armor. Since his theft, he was painfully aware that any small slipup could cost him his newfound livelihood. Tristan had found that his general paranoia over his armor was translating to real life. It was because of this paranoia that during his observation of the inn he noticed a group of people facing his direction. He cursed quietly to himself. [i]They could just be curious.[/i] He tried to convince himself of it, but he found himself pulling his longsword ever so closer regardless.