Corazon
The dim sunlight, cloaked by heavy rainclouds overhead, reflected against smoke rings flitting through the air of the rather large tavern. Samuel slowly strolled in, breaking up the smoke rings as he entered. He dawned thick, cleaned, starched robes, a satchel at his side and a rather heavy sack of coins at his hip. He looked... Unweathered, fresh in the face, as if he hadn't experienced a day of hardship. His hands were clean, his face powdered, and his eyes peeled as if searched the tavern. 
He couldn't help but feel an air of superiority in this place, his hand pompously combing through his curly locks of brown as he unhooded himself. 

Approaching the bar, he ordered himself something to eat and drink, and returned to his table shortly after, his legs crossing as he sat. He avoided making eye contact with anyone in the surrounding area, knowing full well that this city had it's... Issues. He didn't want to get wrapped up in some thief's plot to get rich, he just wanted to relax. 

Good thing they were so far from Markarth... Samuel wouldn't allow himself this sort of luxury so close to his father's home... That would be a death sentence...
Chantell
The Dawnguard warrior would find himself pushing the door open into the Bee and Barb, shutting the tavern door behind him and taking in a deep breath of the mead and fresh meals being prepared in the back. Although outside Riften did smell of honey and fish this was certainly a preferred smell and this much was made obvious when the full helmet was removed, to reveal what looked to be a hardened aryan nord, with a stoic expression and a slash scar going down his right cheek he found himself approach the front counter, in search of what everyone else was-a drink and some information. 

Pushing a stool aside and instead leaning over the counter, the Nord set his helmet down and set down a few extra coins compared to a usual mug of mead. "I know drunk travellers often frequent here, has there been word of any undead perhaps, throughout the Rift?" He would ask quietly to the barkeep, where a few mutters were exchanged after.

Still, with the same expression he would take the mug and turn around, looking around for a place to sit and seeing the only one available was at the table that Ruse seemed to be sitting at. Collecting his helmet and holding it at his hip with his free hand, he walked his way to the seat that was free opposite Ruse, but he set his mug down on the table and flipped the chair at an angle to face out to the bar and not directly to the man opposite him. Not bothering to ask if the seat was occupied or if he could do so-in his mind it was a public place and he had a right to do this.

Sitting down, setting his helmet onto the table and taking hold of his mug, he looked ahead idly and took a fairly long sip of his mead. Setting the mug down moments after his eyes now went over towards the man opposite him, might as well talk a bit. "Suppose you're a traveller then? With that attire, and not being familiar to me."
Corazon
The other's presence drew Samuel's attention, though he supposed the stranger drew most of the patron's eyes as he entered the lonely tavern. He was a daunting figure, one that Samuel felt *Uncomfortable* Looking at. There was nothing *Wrong* With the Nord, nothing outwardly anyway, Samuel was just being dramatic as per usual. Perhaps it was nerves.

He decided to busy himself, distract from the discomfort he was feeling as he saw heavy steps approach his table. Quickly, he ripped a shred of bread from the loaf he had ordered and plunged it into his mouth, followed by a quick swig of mead. 

His insistence on sitting at Samuel's table irked him, his personal bubble being invaded. Ugh. Nords. 

"Clearly." He snapped, rather annoyed with his presence, but refusing to outright state that. "What are you then? Some sort of..." His sharp red eyes scanned the stranger, an incredulous brow lifted. 

His hand motions to all of Lokar.

"Bodyguard?"
Chantell
"I'll be someone with a fist up your area if you won't show a simple man some basic manners." He said immediately in response, although the way he said it wasn't in a tone of aggression or frustration that would retaliate to Samuel, it was a calm and matter of fact style of a threat, no, warning. It came across more as a warning rather than anything. He wasn't just giving empty threats out, but in reality Lokar didn't wish to fight it out with this man, he just felt like having a friendly conversation with a traveller, hear about his tales perhaps. Maybe even recruit him to the Dawnguard, they could always do with new fighters worthy enough to sleep in their barracks. 

"I'm a part of the Dawnguard. We hunt and butcher vampires across Skyrim. If you haven't noticed they've become quite a menace in these lands, and we're meant to cleanse it." He now would say as if presenting a PowerPoint to Samuel, but it was natural for him to clarify who he actually was and go into very brief detail on his loyalties. 

"I am Lokar Iron-Willed, and you are either a thief or a spoilt individual who's never had to do rough work." He said while a small grin would emerge along his lips as if teasing the man, noticing his clean and seemingly untouched features in comparison to Lokar's rougher appearance. Although he was wearing armour and covered most of himself up it was hard to tell.
Corazon
His lip curled, sneering at the other's demand of respect. How dare *He*. Respect isn't something you dish out willy-nilly like some vow stricken monk, you ease into it. You *Earn* It. 

"Vampire hunters, cleansing Skyrim of her sickness, how *Noble*." He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He couldn't help it, he might've been a weakling mage with little to do say for wander about like a lost puppy, but at the very least he could substitute his inability to fight with a snarky tone. Snake like mouth, he used it to his advantage.

He rolls his eyes a little, annoyance getting the better of him. "And clearly you *Love* To get your mitts dirty." He narrowed his slender eyes down at the other's hands, almost disturbed with the idea of how filthy they may in fact be. 

"My name is-" He trails off, recalling a nickname some Nords had called him during his stay in Winterhold. "Samuel. Samuel Ruse."
Chantell
"Samuel Ruse, did your parents give you the name because you were born on a ruse?" He said now as his grin would widen, he now would suddenly shift the way he was sitting to face the man as if to confront him, but in reality he just wanted to have more of a laugh at the man, his sarcasm clearly didn't bother Lokar as he knew that what he said in his own eyes was actually true. They were purging filth from an already dirty land, but no land is ever perfect and doesn't have its faults. The Dawnguard were just doing some good in a bad world so to speak. 

"Don't worry, I know a lot of people who turned out just fine being born as bastards, keep your head high hmm?" He now would add on, where moments after he took a swig of his mug and set it down, the mead was now finished and Lokar leant back in a completely relaxed state, clearly he didn't assume Samuel was going to do anything.

This little interaction was fun for Lokar, he enjoyed to poke fun at people that seemed to him to be like brats. Perhaps because he was always the youngest sibling and had it easy so he suffered the same, and now he understood why it was done so frequently. It brings a strange entertainment for him by just being an absolute cunt.