<div class="floatleft">(http://imgur.com/RcjBCPf.jpg)</div>A single corner of the countess' lips betrayed a smirk as the musketeer sat across from her. Finding a true gentleman out here was a pleasant surprise, especially one that showed the proper deference to her. Reynaud could learn a thing or two from this man if he weren't so damn stubborn. Isabela shot her bodyguard a momentary look from the corner of her eye, noticing that his own gaze was glued on the musketeer and the muscles in his hand tensed around the handle of his drink. Typical Reynaud; the alpha male that saw every man Isabela showed any sort of interest in as a threat. This time, though, he was right for once. Neither of the two warriors were aware of it quite yet but this was an informal interview of sorts for Reynaud's position. The new prospect was everything Isabela wished Reynaud was: respectful, well-groomed, well-dressed, and attractive. Things already didn't look good for the old war veteran.<br/><br/>"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you." Isabela dismissed the musketeer's thanks with a wave of her hand and a brief smile. "Your order has quite the reputation. I'm glad to see you take so much pride in upholding it." If there was a faster way to flatter a soldier than mentioning how well they conformed to some weird code of honor, Isabela hadn't found it yet. Still, the compliment held the truth; he looked better now after a day of riding than most of her servants did fresh out of the bath and with newly tailored uniforms and looking good was at least half of the job's requirements. The countess relaxed back into her seat, her eyes holding a look that was almost predatory as she intently studied Imriel. Every little motion of his underwent the harshest of scrutiny, from how he interacted with the barmaid to how he held his spoon. All in all, he appeared a little rough around the edges but molding him into a proper member of high society would take far less work than it had for some of her servants.<br/><br/>Isabela chuckled softly as the musketeer hovered over his bowl of soup and nodded. "I can relate. I find the comforts of life all the more inviting after a long day." Isabela motioned toward the meal in front of Imriel, signalling that no offense would be taken if he were to eat in front of them. She had to admit, there was something oddly primal and satisfying about watching a man eat. A moment of silence would pass as Isabela curiously watched from across the table, the relative quiet interrupted as she turned to look toward Reynaud who was still intent on staring down the newcomer. "Reynaud." His attention snapped toward his mistress, an ember of anger still burning in his eyes. He didn't like this guy. No<em>real</em>warrior looked like that. Fighting was a business of dirt and blood, not fancy clothes and polished weapons. "Reynaud, would you kindly tend to Thomas? I believe the boy has had enough for the day." Isabela's voice might have been the sweet song it always was but he knew what this actually was: she was ordering him to leave. He didn't like it but fighting the countess only ever served to embolden her. With a grumble, Reynaud stood abruptly, his chair screeching across the inn's floor as he seized Thomas by the wrist and jerked him toward the back of the inn.<br/><br/>Isabela followed the pair until they were out of sight and then turned to face Imriel with a grin that was borderline flirtatious. "My apologies. Reynaud is far too overprotective of me." Isabela's grin widened ever so slightly as she leaned forward, a renewed interest in the man visible in her features. "But enough about him. I want to talk about<em>you</em>. As much as I wish it to be true, I doubt Theus has deposited a worthy conversationalist in my lap just to pass the night." Isabela smiled to herself and drew in even closer, her eyebrows rising inquisitively. "So tell me...what brings a man such as yourself to a place like this?"