Robert
*Within the Brass-Blood Inn, as patrons milled about drinking and talking, and as the innkeepers served drinks and food and offered rooms, there was a well off looking stranger sitting by himself at a side table. A Breton of slender build and slightly short height with combed black hair and a rather impressive mustache, dressed in a luxurious red coat, a white shirt, a leather belt, dark blue pants, and a pair of fine buckled shoes. He didn't seem to pay much mind to the other patrons, sipping from a silver goblet filled with alto wine, with the bottle sitting half empty on the table.*
Michael
Palomir is already at the bar, talking to the innkeep, "I already apologized! It was for some operation on behalf of the Jarl! I swear, you set the bar on fire once and suddenly you're branded as a pyromaniac."
Robert
*The stranger seemed to be half focused on his wine, and half trying to listen to the Altmer's conversation. A face that spoke of immense curiosity tempered by... Something. Whatever it was, he was glancing over at him hearing what he was saying. Was he amused or upset? It was hard to tell.*
Michael
"The Jarl wouldn't have been able to kill that Forsworn bastard if not for me, so I expect half decent service!" He says, somewhat angered, "Now will you just give me my wine so we can be done with this conversation?"