"Damn!  The show's already over."  Allistair addressed this to no one in particular, particularly not Hans, the manservant who followed him in on the tail of his cloak.  His heavy riding boots- the good shoes he had left behind in his haste to abandon his previous quarters- clomped across the floor of the inn.  Craning his head, he looked around for the bard, whose performance he had- truthfully!- come to see.  Sighting her in a knot of people, he forced his way though the milling crowd, shouldering forward.  Some people got out of his way naturally- his size, build and noble bearing tended to part crowds for him.  Those who didn't move were casually pushed aside. Allistair adjusted course for no one.  Well, very few, anyway.<br/><br/>As he closed on the group of people talking amongst themselves, he interjected himself excitedly.  "Rain!  It's been too long since we last crossed paths- it was at the Burdan Tournament, wasn't it?  I missed your performance there, too."  He looked back at the man in his shadow.  "Hans!  Wine for Rain and her friends.  Snap to."  He scurried off as a bright grin stayed across Allistair's face.  It was only then that he noticed the very serious looks plastered across everyone's faces.  He glance about nervously, trying to hide the sudden awkward knot developing in his stomach.<br/><br/>"So... why the long faces?"  It was supposed to be a joking remark, but came out as a concerned request.