[center][h1][color=0054a6]Tristan the Unworthy Knight[/color][/h1][/center]
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	"[b]If not sir, then what may I call you?[/b]" Tristan grinned. "[color=0054a6]My name's Tristan. You are...?[/color]" He was enjoying conversing with this girl.  "[b]I could take you around town if you want,[/b]" His smile grew. "[b]and I could do it for free![/b]" Tristan nodded. "[color=0054a6]That sounds like a lot of fun. How does tomorrow sound?[/color]" He thought that nobody would be able to notice his paranoia surrounding the men in the booth, but the serving girl seemed to notice. Unfortunately, so did the group in question. "[b]Oh them... they're from the plains near here.[/b]" He narrowed his eyes. "[b]Usually only one or two show up. The one with the long black hair is their leader.[/b]" The man she spoke of raised his tankard to Tristan, then loosened his knife. His other men peered. with dead eyes at Tristan. Tristan leaned into the serving girl, whispering back to her. "[color=0054a6]What do you think the odds of them trying something are? Normally I wouldn't be worried, but there's certainly more of them than there are of me and...Well, I'm not quite sure that anybody would try and assist me.[/color]" His grip on his blade tightened. "[color=0054a6]But if I must fight with those heathens then I will not hesitate.[/color]" Being a knight certainly was tiring. Especially acting so noble. Of course, he did partially mean what he had said. Tristan would be all too happy to fight with those men, but this tavern did not seem like the place to use a longsword. The odds of him hitting an innocent bystander with it were high, and that would possibly get him thrown out of town.