"How am I supposed to know what goes on in the heads of those kinds of people?" Jonas grumbled, shaking his head and going back to rearranging his small room.<br/><br/>"Ah...Relic?" He asked, squinting at her as if he was trying to recall some distant memory, "Listen, I'm just living in Oakhurst until this damn curse wears if, if it even<em>does</em>wear off. Thank the gods none of the women in this rotten town are particularly religious- except for Miss Akerson... though she never came here much until her husband died..."<br/><br/>The young man shot an unamused glance at Dymiira, harshly snapping at her, "Don't judge me!"<br/><br/>Jonas rubbed the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply before concluding, "I coulden't care less what happens outside this room, much less outside the village. If you're feeling bold, try asking that old witch by the river. Belle, was it? Eaagh. The scouts and trappers who stop by the inn everytime they finish a job know the countryside pretty well, but those oafs woulden't know a magical artifact from their own leavings."