The bar is a small, dingy looking place, more likely to be called a rathouse than a drinking establishment. The patrons are few, the ale looks weak, and all the workers look worn down. It's a dark, depressing place. Asking for Emily informs him that she's in the back, preparing a pitcher of ale, and a moment later, she enters the main room, delivering the pitcher to a table of dirty men. "Hello, can I help you," she asks, when told the metal-clad man was looking for her. She, like all the others, looks world-weary and worn down, her hair frazzled, and her clothes rumpled.