The rogue had not moved from his spot near the front-facing window of the tavern the entire time the blacksmith shop burned. He waited out the commotion that ensued with a seemingly unfettered expression of calm. Though beneath the veneer of his exterior a great many thoughts and ideas played out for the trickster. He had considered, repeatedly, stealing the inn's money and leaving for another local tavern: But those ideas and thoughts kept getting washed away by the sight of the still silent figure in green nearby. Whatever the man had to offer, or what secrets lay in wait, Crow was not about to find out. As he let the gnawing pain in his stomach gurgle up and make light of the serious situation, the faint call of success found him. The fire had been quelled and the townsfolk were once more returning to their normal routines. Soon enough the tavern would be packed with those wishing to wash away the incident in booze and talk of false heroics in hopes of garnering some tinge of respect from peers.<br/><br/>Crow did not look forward to the gathering crowd, but he needed the barkeep to return or else his food would never arrive. Which, when the innkeeper did walk in: Followed in tow by ten or more weary villagers, was exactly what the rogue was focused on. He raised his eyes to the burly man, handed him the gold coin, ordered his light meal, asked for an available room, and quickly sat back down in the corner. The owner was taken aback at first; surprised by the readyness of the lithe thief, and yet the suddenness brought on no apparent reaction. Instead the hefty man simply nodded and grunted in acceptance, and went about readying the kitchen again. He didnt wish to partake in idle conversation nor argue at the time: Drenched in water, caked in soot, and tired from the exertion moments before. Crow was happy for the silent acceptance of his coin and the order: He surely didnt have the energy to argue prices, or haggle over a minor pittance like one gold piece.<br/><br/>With the waiting game being played out for himself and others in the tavern area, Crow let his head fall lightly to the table, and his awareness to spread beyond. He listened to conversations, and paid attention to anything he might keep as a secret for later. Which was nothing of worth as the men and women nearby were merely hungry and tired: Holding no valuables or words of wisdom for the rogue. His light sigh fell from barely parted lips, as again and again the tavern door opened and closed. More arrivals, and more departures from the establishment. He didnt raise his head to watch anyone in particular anymore, as his urge to sleep and escape the tediousness of the day, was growing by the second.