Bronwyn navigated the crowds of Bourbon Street with absentminded grace. All around her, drunken tourists and natives reveled, dancing and stumbling and shimmying to various beats drifting from bars and clubs. Ursaline Guest House was right around the corner. A bell tinkled as she crossed the threshold, announcing her arrival.<br/>Tara looked up from her paperwork at the desk. "Look what the cat dragged in."<br/>"Ragged an' disheveled." Bronwyn agreed with an ironic smile. In truth, her blue jeans were clean and her black button down looked freshly pressed, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. "Perhaps a pretty innkeeper could provide succor to a weary traveler."