"No, I haven't," you reply, and Draven eyes you, hand on his pipe, the ember inside glowing briefly as he sucks in a long breath. "Well," he says, letting out a long stream of smoke. "You might want to. There's nothing particularely interesting back here." He chuckles a little, as if from a private joke. "Just a kitchen, y'know." Ober his shoulder you see his statement is quite true, the cramped kitchen expanding farther back, hot and musky with the smell of old stew and burnt bread. A plump man lumbers between hearth and oven, bushy eyebrows pulled together, paying attention to nothing but his own cooking. "Now git, kid. I ain't got time for idle chat," Draven says, a little more brusquely, placing one guiding hand on your shoulder out of the kitchen. "Got an inn to run, y'know." He winks, and closes the bottom half of the horizontily split door, throwing the latch as he retreats back into the kitchen. Go back to the Common Room. |