The girl looked down, her hood now disguising her face and orange hair from sight. He allowed her to pass him, but after a moment he felt it necessary to correct. He turned and faced her again, now looking further down the alley<br/><br/>"This alley leads to a dead-end. I suggest you turn around." he said, turning away again and following his own directions. He walked backed onto the main road and crossed the larger portion of the road, where merchant carts and carriages were parked or moving. He pulled his hood down, feeling safe that he would no longer need to mask his identity. The sunshine of the morning now covered his pale face in place of shadows that protected him from the stares at his scar-covered face. When you had gotten into as many fights as he had, you didn't always win. He could see the tavern in the distance ahead of him, which brought a smirk to his face. Although it seemed as though he had killed that man without a blink, he was usually the first to realize that his opponents- his victims, had families just as he did. Alcohol usually did a good job of washing away the guilt, although he never fancied himself a drunken bastard. He would usually leave town the moment he made a fool of himself, and he had been in Yholmnin for nearly three months.<br/><br/>He opened the door and walked inside. The human bartender who owned the bar greeted him as a regular. His name was Moses.<br/><br/>"Meren, good to see you friend. What can I get you?" his voice was rough, but remained soothing to hear, in Meren's opinion.<br/><br/>"The house ale," he said. This was his usual order, and Moses knew it. He already had a glass of the liquor poured, which made Meren wonder why he even asked anymore. He sat down and set a coin-purse on the counter top.