the taverns bustling with chatter, laughter, and maybe even fighting

and you walk in and take a seat at the counter, as the bartender asks what you want, while waiting, your sword glinting on your back as you tap on the wood gently like it’s a piano, you glance to your side and you see… a tired swordswoman, with her face buried in her arms, you decide to check on her by placing a hand on her back but she’s not crying… she’s… mumbling while sleeping,

Leo: “….snore eh…zzzzzzzz”