As though the lake of people had parted at his command, Wrenn weaved his way through the cowering, rabbit-like crowd to the owner of the inn. 'Hmm... missing roof, a damaged room,' he pondered to himself. Biting his tongue as it plastered to his upper lip, Wrenn plunged a hand into his back of holding, feeling around for one of the smaller chunks of the gold, jewel-encrusted coffin that they had tucked away.<br/><br/>"Perhaps, this shall be sufficient for the damages done?" he asked, a mix of nonchalant and quizzical. He presented the chunk to the owner, as though beckoning him to take the glittering beacon in his hand.