A wall-hung lantern illumines the way with a soft amber glow, casting teasing, mysterious shadows and warming the details of the corridor... much like Joli's smoldering smile as she sways her way down the hallway and casts a coy glance over her shoulder when she pauses at the door.  She inserts the slim iron key into the well-oiled, but simple, lock, and gives it a twist.  She closes the door behind as she glides inside, but-- almost as if by accident-- the catch does not quite close and the door stands apart from its jamb.<br/><br/>Much like the Tavern itself, the room is rustic and charming, the furniture of polished maple varnished to a deep brown gloss and the woven rug a worn, faded maroon.  The bed is not huge, but it looks quite comfortable, topped with a clean quilt stitched from cotton scraps over white linens.  A rocker in the corner sits beside an open trunk where several extra wool blankets wait like patient servants.  The only light is from a fire that must have been lit when they first ordered the room a half-our earlier, but it sheds an orange, flickering glow and a welcoming, pervasive warmth through the small room with the sweet perfume of burning cedar and ash-wood.  Rain still patters at the black square of a window and the broad roof above, a rhythmic percussion that soothes and stirs the mind to shake off its preoccupations and simply listen.<br/><br/>When the door is opened, Joli has already piled her gear in the shadow-cast corner by the trunk and hung her still-damp cloak on a peg by the fire.  She doesn't seem to notice, and is working at the buckles of the leather cuirass over her body.  She speaks softly, as if knowing she's not alone.  "My uncle's armor... not very flattering, I know... I never thought I'd wear it.  And I never thought I'd take it off in front of anyone."