<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/f97Iv9D.jpg)</div>Miriel was combing her hair again in jerky pulls, gusts of wind frustrating her efforts. Of course the one thing she managed to keep from the bandits was a hair comb, Eller noted. Their eyes met, and the half-elf promptly stood up in the cart - "Pay? Pay for what? For being robbed? Weren't you supposed to protect us? You know we have no coin left!" - Miriel was hungry and tired, and her anger was spiking up. With that she promptly hopped off the cart and started stomping her foot in almost childish frustration. She continued kicking then scrapping off the worst of the mud from her walking boots, then proceeded to dust off her clothes and cloak the best she could.<br/><br/>Eller found her cute when she was mad like that. He watched her storm off to the large well around which the caravan formed a half circle. One of the drivers had already brought up a bucket of water, and Miriel took a scoop of it and drank eagerly.<br/><br/>Her eyes went to the tavern as she drank. The name Dancing Dweomer was full of promise, but the building and its surroundings were much less encouraging. Her plan has been to find a prominent tavern, a much finer establishment than the Dancing Dweomer seemed to be, and perform there for coin. For serious coin. But for that she needed a proper costume, she needed her jewelry, she needed her blades... Well, actually Teneth blades, since she did stole them from him, curse on him and his ginger skank. But the bandits took all of that. They even took her viol, presumably to sell for few extra gold.<br/><br/>Eller watched her as she stretched with her arms above her head, her blouse tightening around her small but ripe curves. He was sure she was doing that on purpose when he was watching. She was approaching him now. He noted that he didn't need to watch out for that staff of hers. For the moment it was left forgotten in the cart. She had picked it in a groove where they had their midday break. She hadn't looked particularly threatening as she wildly and angrily swung the staff at imagined bandits. But she looked delightfully feisty when she had started deftly twirling it left and right, and around her.<br/><br/>Miriel's features softened as she made herself to unclench her teeth. "Eller..." - she forced a smile as she approached the black haired man. He did have his good sides. He was muscular, and good looking in a rough way. She had noticed his attention during the journey, but made a point to show disinterest, sometimes subtly, sometimes less so. Few times she would then slowly stretch her back, or arms, or neck, just to give him a slightly better view of the unavailable fruit. Now... now she could use his help.<br/><br/>"Eller." - Miriel repeated the name sweetly, now wearing a warm smile. The wind ruffled her hair again. "Can you please help us?" - she spoke in a soft voice, and emphasized the world 'please'. "You are from Brightgarden, are you not?" - she wasn't really sure about that part. "Could you put in a good word for me at an inn? That I will pay as soon as I earn enough coin? I can play a viol..." - he knew that, of course, her fast and merry tunes followed the caravan since day one, and voices occasionally joined in to sing a famous local song. "...and I can dance..." She played shy and tame now, looking down at her feet, then looking up into his eyes. He was quite taller then her. "And if you're the one who reports this to the authorities, they'll believe you and maybe they'll get our things back?" - with her voice all hopeful.