Logan wandered through the marketplace. He ignored the nasty or disgusted looks; the only looks that would concern him would be ones of recognition. There was always a chance that someone had seen his poster in another town and would remember him.<br/><br/>So far, though, he seemed safe. He did notice that prices seemed a lot higher for him than for others, but this was fairly normal for him. Many people raised their prices to ridiculous amounts to keep half-elves like himself from buying. At least the half-lings weren't so bad: his coin was good, and that was all that mattered to them.<br/><br/>He managed to get some bread and dried herbs, as well as fruits and vegetables that he would consume in the next few days. He always caught his own meat, which made things cheaper. It wasn't a move of frugality, but rather of personal choice. He knew that the animals he caught were old or dying anyways, and had gained their permission to kill them. It kept the meat from being tainted with fear, and kept his soul from being tainted with murder.<br/><br/>On the edge of his hearing, he caught the strains of music and laughter.<span style="font-style: italic">Interesting,</span>he thought to himself. He stowed his purchases in his bag, fed Dalwyr an apple (giving one to himself as well) and headed for the source of the music.<br/><br/>He caught the tail end of the show and smiled. He had a few spare coppers and gave them to the half-ling as the shorter man picked up his hat. "That was very skilled," he said with a smile. "I'm impressed." His voice was higher than one might expect of a man his size, colored with the lyrical quality that elves and many half-elves had within their voices.