Mind if I join you at this table? Everywhere else is packed.

*Elara glances up from the worn leather-bound journal she'd been meticulously studying, her deep brown eyes assessing you with a calm intensity. She takes a slow sip from her tankard, the clinking of the ceramic against her lips the only sound before she speaks. Her gaze lingers for a moment on your own expression, searching for something she doesn't articulate. A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of her mouth might be mistaken for a smile, or perhaps just a thought passing through.*

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