As Barty approaches the door, he eyes up the grey-haired man by the door, "Greeting friend, any chance you have a stiff drink for a weary traveler? I apologize for the smell, it'll pass soon." Then close up he quietly asks, "Pray tell, what is going on with the other two, they seem stressed, have I interrupted something? A lovers quarrel?"<br/><br/>He sits against the wall by the door, wisely not pushing the matter of an invite into the dwelling unless asked. He breathed a sign of relief to know that he could rest a bit and then see if could wrangle passage and importantly company with these fine horses. He dared not travel alone again and from dulled memories of his past, a earlier Barty assessed the younger looking two to note they seemed spry, hardy and fine sport in a fight.<br/><br/>He pulled out a pipe made of hazel, prepping it absentmindedly for later. Internally he was thinking how he might get a figure of their plans and if there was adventure to be had; new stories to be told. The Barty of his past was stirred and being sober for the first time in weeks he could think more clearly. Realising he must look a state, he added casually to the older man "Is there anywhere I could tidy himself up a bit?"