The last thing Rowan Whitethorn had wished to do with his week was go on a mission with Lorcan and Gavriel, but as always, Maeve's word was law, and he didn't wish to undergo another beating. It wasn't as if he had anywhere else to be, anyways.

The day had been long. More hunting soldiers from Adarlan and Erilea who had gotten too close to Wendlyns coast, and Doranelle in return. It had been pitiful, honestly, how they broke under hardly more than a slap from Lorcan, but it made their job easier.

So after hours of boredom and working with two males he'd rather not speak to, they made their way back to a small town further inland. All three of them agreed that a drink was needed, and so they made their way to a Tavern.

The place was rowdier then they would have suspected for a week night in such a small town, but it was the only place within a few miles to sell a pint of ale. The sound of loud laughter and cheers greeted them as they made their way inside, brushing by human and fae alike as women danced and males drank around them.

Rowan, of course, chose to take the seat at the bar furthest away from the commotion, pulling his dark hood up over his silver hair and the tattoo on his face. It's a few minutes later when the damn bartender finally makes their way over, and at this point, he could just-

"What can I get for you, sir?"

The voice of a female has his thoughts cut off as he looks up at her. Instantly, the snarky and rude reply he had been planning dies on his lips as he looks over her face, her features soft and smiling despite the crowded atmosphere.

Rowan clears his throat and tries to shake away the feeling growing in his stomach and lower abdomen - No. He hadn't let himself near a female in years - not after Lyria, and he wouldn't be doing so again.

"I'll... I'll just take an ale," He responds gruffly, sliding a coin across the counter. The female nods and grabs a glass, turning to pour the pint.