<span style="color: #FF0000">Fenharel rolled his eyes as Tasia stormed away after reading Rebekah's letter.<br/><br/>"For crying out loud," he muttered under his breath. He was starting to think that he'd never get to find out what was going on at the rate things were going, and he was tired of following along and eavesdropping.<br/><br/>"I'm getting a drink from the tavern," he said finally, jaws slightly clenched in annoyance as he turned to look at Rebekah and Simon. "If Tasia is meeting you here again, I'll be back soon. I want to know what's going on."<br/><br/>He drew his coat tighter on himself and trudged up the village pathway that led to the tavern. He had spotted earlier and considered going but decided to do it later in the evening. By this point, however, he already felt like he needed to blow off steam. He swung the door to the tavern open, its metal hinges creaking loudly.<br/><br/>It was noisy inside, with a heavy buzz of conversation and the occasional bout of laughter emanating from table corners. He walked up to an empty seat at the bar and ordered the strongest ale they had, placing some coins on the counter. His eyes swept the room, accustomed as he was to scoping places out. He noticed the man that had been in the blacksmith's shop earlier at the bar as well, having a drink and exchanging stiff conversation with the barkeep. Fenharel grabbed his mug of ale as soon as the barkeep put it in front of him, nodded in thanks, and walked to the quietest corner he could find, sitting almost in shadow as he took a swig from his brew. It cascaded down his throat, satisfyingly bitter. As he put it down, however, a hand grabbed the mug and moved it to the very edge of the table, dangerously close to falling.<br/><br/>Fenharel looked up at a heavily bearded man, rotund and menacing with his yellowed teeth and unkempt hair. Fenharel roved his eyes around the man's body before locking eyes with him, and that was when the man spoke. "You're in my seat," he drawled, clearly inebriated.<br/><br/>Fenharel shifted in his seat slightly. "You weren't sitting here when I showed up and no one claimed it was taken," he pointed out before placing his hand and starting to move the mug back to the center of the table. The grizzly man placed his own hand on the mug and stopped the motion.<br/><br/>"Don't matter. I've always claimed this seat as mine. So bugger off."<br/><br/>"I'm not moving."<br/><br/>"You sure about that?" The man started rolling up one of his sleeves with his free hand and continued to grip Fenharel's mug with the other.<br/><br/>Fenharel sighed and reached for his belt underneath the table. "Listen, <span style="font-style: italic">sir</span>," he said. He drew the knife Simon had repaired for him and smashed it into the table, blade piercing it, right in between the man's fingers, only just missing them. "I didn't come here to start any problems. But if you're looking for one..." Fenharel moved the knife on the table so that the wood screeched as it was cut into. "You may have just found it."<br/><br/>The man looked at him for a second before bursting into laughter. "Knives don't scare me, kid. I've had my share of threats from wives and maids with knives before, and all of them regretted it." He proceded to flip the mug over and onto the floor, where it broke loudly into several large glass pieces.<br/><br/>Fenharel quickly flipped the table onto the man with a kick of his foot, vaulted over it as the man was caught off balance, and pinned him down with one arm while the other held the knife to his throat.<br/><br/>"What's the custom here for a spilled drink?" he asked loudly, both to the man and the room at large. "Because where I'm from, I would get bought the drink that was spilled and another on top of that for the trouble I was caused." Fenharel turned back to the man. "You willing to do that?"<br/><br/>Fenharel was attracting more attention than he would have liked, but it had been a frustrating morning, and he wasn't in the mood for games.</span>