The inn's door swung open once more, mere moments after Sarrina got herself settled. A jolt of freezing wind danced through the inn's interior, fading away once the newcomers had all entered and closed the entryway behind them. Laughter, that of three young men, resounded throughout the warm shelter as they strolled through it. All of them were dressed in furs, dirtied from hours of work in Kynesgrove's mine, and were all still holding the tools of their trade. Pickaxes slung over the shoulders, tips dusty with shattered stone and ore of malachite.<br/><br/>One of them, the shortest of the group by a noticeable degree, spoke his opinion of the weather. "Kynareth save us, it's bloody freezing out there." His voice, lighter in tone and bearing the distinct pronunciations of a Breton, shivered with every word spoken. His lack of a Nord's natural resistance to cold worked against him.<br/><br/>Another one of the miners laughed, hanging his pick in a rack meant for weapons set up near the door. "Cry more, milk-drinker. You're getting paid for it, you can deal with a little chill," He responded, pulling his hood off. He bore the features of a typical Nord male, strong and fair. "Unless you'd rather pick vegetables for pocket change?"<br/><br/>"Pffft," The shorter one replied. He slid his coat off, and placed his own pick in the rack beside the other. "No, no, I fumble through enough dirt already. And these rocks get<span style="font-style: italic">quite</span>a bit more than whatever that meager garden can spit out." He brushed his hair, shaggy and a slightly reddish shade of blonde, out of his eyes with a free hand. His lighter skintone and lithe build made him fit in well enough, though his facial structure was quite different from a Nord's. A bit of a ponce, as the manmer tended to be. "Same time tomorrow, yeah?"<br/><br/>"Aye. Lug, treat yourself. Saved our hides back there," The Nord said, turning to the third person in the trio. An Orsimer, gruff in appearance, but not so much in demeanor. As the human passed over an extra little satchel of septims, the orc smiled and gave a nod, which was returned by the other. The third of the trio had already taken off to head towards the counter. Looking over towards the breton, the nord called out to him. "Try not to spend it all in one place, Alois."<br/><br/>Waving him off, Alois continued to the counter, resting an arm atop it. "Excuse me?" He spoke up, raising a hand to draw the barkeep's attention. "If you've got any horker stew on, I'd like a bowl, please." A handful of coins were placed on the counter, and once taken, he asked a question in turn.<br/><br/>"Anything to drink? You've got a little extra here," He said as he nudged a pair of coins forward. Considering it, Alois pursed his lips before making a decision.<br/><br/>"Just some milk, please," He finally replied. The innkeep nodded, taking the coins and adding them to a drawer behind the counter before going on to get the breton's meal prepared. From behind him, Alois heard the nord's distinctly hearty laughter. He turned to scowl at him, but barely managed a pout. "Shove off, Leif."<br/><br/>The nord laughed even harder.