Lorcan Cousland pushed up out of his bed, and away from the pretty little slip of an elven maid with whom he had shared his bed the night before. She had warmed him in the night a few times before since the battle ended, and she was like lightning between the sheets. The noble was strapping on his usual gear when the girl in his bed awoke.<br/><br/>"Good morning, my lord," she said cheerfully while Lorcan buckled a few straps on his nearly skin-tight leather cuirass; his boots and trousers were already on. She had sat up in the bed, and held up in the sheets in a bunch to keep her modesty, not that the human hadn't already seen everything on her.<br/><br/>The Dark Wolf pulled on his gauntlets and wiggled his fingers, testing to make sure the drakeskin leather was still as flexible as it was the day before. "Good morning, Mialee," he muttered half-interestedly as he finished his morning dressing routine, buckling the gauntlets down and rolling his shoulders. "I'm going out," he told her while he retrieved his daggers. "Stay as long as you like."<br/><br/>The elf girl pouted as he was leaving the room. "But why so early?" she asked him in a plaintive tone.<br/><br/>Lorcan said, "Because I have busy days. If you're interested in making my nights busy, feel free to return." Once he was finished with Mialee, he walked down the stairs, out the door of Arl Eamon's estate, and into the remains of Denerim's Market District.