The door opens and bangs closed once again, this time depositing a rather small man--indeed, so youthful in appearance yet that to call him a "man" almost seems questionable--who jumps like a frightened mouse at the sound made by the slamming of the wood into its frame. He is small in more ways than one, not only exceptionally short, but also thin, with the frame of a hollow reed, albeit somewhat obscured by the ample red and white robes that drape his figure. His wavy brown hair flips back and forth as he turns his head from the door, to the strange scene before him, then back again a couple of times, as if unsure of where he is or what he's stumbled into.<br/><br/>".....Oh dear. I'm not..... interrupting something, am I?" Morrin asks, trying not to let his bewilderment show too much at the sight of a drunken woman hugging a tankard and a man halfway out of a colorful costume.