“Mrm,” Silvertalon mrm’d noncommittally, lying across a bench on the far wall of the overcrowded cell they were currently situated in. It was a dismal place, not out of malice but because it was overused for what was, essentially, a small farming town. Thankfully, their little faux pas would only see them spend a night here and pay a fine for their freedom. In the meantime, they had the dubious company of drunks, gamblers, and disturbers of the peace to keep them occupied.