<div class="floatright">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/79/d6/1b/79d61bd5e7a02a21b32d5d8ddfa0a0e3.jpg)</div>The guard the Lorelei points out definitely is having some sulking time.  He's younger than the other two guards he's seated with, both of whom are pointing out fine women and slapping asses as they go by.  This one, however, while handsome enough seems to not be joining in the fun.  A pint of ale in front of him sits mostly untouched as he adjusts his shirt a bit, glancing around the Freeromp.  There is a wistful look to his face as he considers the things around him.<br/><br/>When the call for racers comes, he looks up for just a moment, as though considering it and then furrows his brow, frowning.  "You going to race?" he asks one of the other two men at the table, a grey haired veteran guard who shakes his head and gestures to a much younger woman seated on his lap.  The young guard scowls and stands up, "I'm getting a drink."  He leaves his perfectly good beer on the table as he saunters over to the bar and taps on it.<br/><br/>There certainly had been rumors about this fellow and Lorelei has the long and<del>short</del>thick of it down.  Despite his melancholic appearance, he has quite a reputation for his nethers, enough so that he has a difficult time with both men and women in the town.