[Past] You, Me and a Pitcher of Cream

As he downed some of his pint Ruth’s eyes were already making a sweep. Nairn was distracted, annoyed, but almost nervous about something. He’d follow the fleeting glances, placing down the pint to lean across the table to cast a cursory look at the bar, as if looking for others to join them.

His true intention was to scope out the bar’s occupants. There was the usual handler crew, old Bertie was there but sat next to him was a dark-haired elf. This was new. So that’s who’d caught his eye. Ruth offered a quiet whistle, snickering as he cast his friend a side look. “Forget about my travels, who’s the new girl?” His brow arched, hand picking back up his pint turning his attention back to observing.

“She’s dalish.” He’d offer, nudging his friend hoping to entice Nairn to give further details. Maybe because it was due to the fact he was dalish, they had certain quirks and tells. “It's the way she's braided her hair. She’s fresh out of the woods.”