Lon watched the busy room from the far side of the inn, away from the chill of the windows and the draft from the door. His table held the remains of the humble but comforting dinner he'd had, and he nursed at a mug of ale as if he was drinking away the last of his silvers, which wasn't far from the truth. He knew little of Caergoth, but it reminded him of the home he'd left, a bittersweet memory that wasn't really that sweet. He'd arrived earlier in the day, one of a long line of ragged and tired travelers slipping into the warm embrace of the town, and although it'd been less dark then, it certainly hadn't been any less wet, and he'd spent quite a bit of time tucked in front of the fireplace. So as the two women, obviously quite wet and cold entered the bar, he had some sympathy for them, and idly entertained several lascivious scenarios that would undoubtedly help with the chill.<br/><br/>However, the first was a warrior he assumed, based on her bearing and audacity; perhaps she knew the caravaneers and his guards near the center of the room? Either way, he was certain she was one not to piss off, as she looked like she could kick his ass without breaking a sweat, even without the help of the table of armed guards. The second, however, was a bit of a mystery, and that piqued his interest. He ran a hand through his short black hair, trying once again unsuccessfully to lay it flat, and surreptitiously watched her out of the corner of her eye as she finally made her way back to a table. Her eyes roamed the room, headed his way, and he looked away (mostly), watched the others in the place that he'd been watching for the past hour. By the time he glanced back, her eyes had moved onward, and he resumed his unobtrusive study of her features and mannerisms.