Halam swore under his breath and began the arduous process of donning his armor. Luckily he still had his chest plate on, although for some reason he was completely bottomless. He really wished he could remember what the hell happened the night before. By the time he got his boots on and straightened up with an instinctive grasp of his beard, Mercutio was already at the door.<br/><br/>Halam waited in the room just long enough to pick one of the copper coins back up and slip it into his pouch, and then he was outside, racing down to the inn's first floor. As he reached outside, the smell of bacon hit him again, stronger than ever. Frowning, he thumbed his mustache and discovered a strip of the stuff. "Want some?" he asked his companion, but he figured the answer would be a no anyway (plus, as it was bacon he didn't want to share), so he stuck it in his mouth and fell into step with the moving crowd.<br/><br/>"Hard to spot a noble when everyone dresses like they shit golden rainbows", he muttered irritably, as a man with an incredibly bushy mustache turned to stare at him. He offered the gentleman a heavy scowl, making him turn away, alarmed. Following along with the crowd was likely their best bet, but then the crowd itself posed something of an issue. Then again, that would suggest they had some kind of plan in place, but all they'd managed to do since reaching the city was lose their horses and spend most of their remaining funds on whores and booze. Whatever was going on, be it a public address or some kind of show, it was poorly timed.<br/><br/>"Guess we'll just wing it," Halam grumbled as a large building crept into view up ahead. He eyed Merc, and then gave their surroundings a sweeping glance. "We stand out a tad, don't we?" He sniffed, and in the absence of bacon aroma he made a new realization. "We smell, too."