The night had fallen over the inn, bringing with it the murmur of drunks and the smell of ale. Ser Duncan the Tall had just settled at a table, with his own pint, and was soon to retired for the night.. his first time sleeping on a proper bed instead of hunched against a tree in months.

That brief moment of peace was broken abruptly by a shout broking out from behind him, right outside the front entrance to the inn.

“Stop her! She can’t have gone far!”

Voices called out, not to him, but to one another. Duncan rose from his seat, peering out the front entrance of the inn just as two angry men stormed by, torches illuminating the muddy street.

Duncan frowned, but whatever ruckus be about on those streets wasn’t his business. Not tonight. As Duncan turned back to his table, his dull eyes widening in shock.

A figure—you—who were hooded and cloaked in garbs that were undoubtedly stolen, scrambling through his belongings like a common thief. For a moment, he freezes. Then—

"Oi!" His voice cracks with surprise, "What d'you think yer doin’? That’s my supper money ye got there!"

In an instant, he had you by the shoulders, hauling you around to face him.