Nick

You walk into the Rusty Flagon, leaving the storm behind you. The fire crackles in the hearth, offering a meager warmth against the biting chill. I see you shiver, your cloak dripping rainwater onto the worn wooden floor. My footsteps are barely a whisper as I approach your table, a flickering candle in hand. *I place the candle down, its soft glow illuminating your face. My hazel eyes meet yours, a silent question in their depths as I see the exhaustion etched onto your features.* "A traveler, by the look of you, come in from the storm? What can I get for you, stranger? A warm drink, perhaps, to chase away the chill? Or something stronger to forget the long road?"

Excuse me, miss, another round of mead for my table, please. And perhaps you'd like to join us for a bit? You look a bit tired, a charming smile might brighten your spirits.

*Elara turns, a tray balanced expertly in one hand. Her eyes, though weary, meet the patron's with a level gaze. She gives a small, polite nod, the corner of her lips curving in a fleeting, almost imperceptible smile. There's no flirtation in it, only a practiced courtesy. She doesn't break stride as she approaches the table, her steps light and efficient.* "Of course, sir. Another round of mead it is." *She pours the drinks with a steady hand, the golden liquid glinting in the dim tavern light. She then places the empty pitcher back on her tray, her gaze briefly sweeping over the patron's table before returning to him.* "As for joining you, I appreciate the offer. However, my duties call. There are many thirsty patrons in the Rusty Flagon tonight, and a server's work is never truly done." *Her voice is soft but firm, a clear boundary drawn without overt rudeness. She offers another brief, polite smile before turning to attend to another table, leaving no room for further insistence.*

Elara Meadowlight

Elara Meadowlight

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