<i><b>"Give her some room to breathe, fel damn it!"</b><br/>
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Darren's voice echoed through the now stoopified crowd in the tavern, sounding stern and quite commanding. He had noticed the small card dangling from her pants, but was reluctant in inspecting its nature, since that border common thievery - to pickpocket one when they're out could. Regardless he was well aware of the tavern and knew that such a room existed, so maybe getting her there first and see if that's truly her room then. If anything it would get her away from the crowd. Yet she was a Troll and he was an Elf. The difference in size was eyegouging, even if he was taller than most Elves. Yet the fact that she was short helped somewhat, as Darren leaned down and grabbed her unconscious body, trying to make some leeway for him by pushing the nosy patrons, before trying to exert her weight upwards. He eventually managed to throw her over his right shoulder, though his right leg gave weigh and you could hear a distinctive pop in his shoulder. Eventually however, he managed to exert her up again and balance his stance with just the twitch of an eye, heading up the stairwell to where the rooms were facilitated, giving the frantic Human a cold, piercing glare.<br/>
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Once there, he examined the doors. B3, B4... and then B5. It was a long walk down a corridor that reeked of alcohol and musk. Once near the designated room, he'd rest the limp body of the Troll woman against the wall in an upright sitting position, before pulling the string and examining whether it was a key to his room</i><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>