“Ah, but at least allow me to show you to your room!” He grabbed the key off the counter and trotted over to the stairs. Handy had no choice but to follow him, lest he look rude. Also, you know, he kinda had the key to his room. He was getting uncomfortable with the whispers that were now emerging on the floor behind him as he ascended the steps. He knew this story;  as soon as he was gone, some gossip was going to try to get the skinny from the barkeep, they would fail, the local smooth-talker would succeed, the lush would say something unflattering about the stranger, the smooth-talker would tell the gossip, and a game of Chinese whispers would take care of the rest. Handy was slightly concerned about what the barmare was going to say. He saw what happened when pony grapevine had its way with the truth.