<strong>PC</strong>Brogan (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=683441)<br/><strong>Location</strong>On Shore/In the village<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>Galacia, Jin, Calathes<br/><hr/>Once it was agreed that they would gather once more in a short while, Brogan departed their company to return to the line that had formed to speak with the innkeep about securing lodging for the evening. He occasionally cast a glance back towards the others, watching as they departed or took a seat as the case may be for each of them, his eyes appraising them each from a distance as he mentally examined the situation. There would be nothing wrong having some acquaintances while here, he thought. He was wary, of course, but the idea of having a handful of people who might watch his back was very appealing. Being in a foreign land without a single comrade was dangerous enough as it was.<br/><br/>Soon enough Brogan plunked down his silvers and completed the transaction in order to secure a place to rest his head that night. He departed for that area, and the fact that it lacked complete privacy mattered little to him. He wasn't modest, to say the least, and he knew most humans, elves and otherwise tended to -avoid- looking his way, rather than focusing on him. He quickly fished through his pack, checking on the security of his belongings as well as their condition, then made a quick change of clothes into something that felt more comfortable and less salt-laden. Once he changed, he cinched up his pack once more, and tossing it over his shoulder he made his way back to the tavern floor.<br/><br/>He found a table with the other three already gathered, and he quietly took a seat with them, glancing around at the various peoples gathered in the open tavern area. Not long after taking a seat, a server approached him, and he quietly request water and bread, along with some cheese. The server disappeared as Brogan gazed about the place, noting the interaction between some burly man and the hostess he had secured his lodgings from. It was an... odd... sort of greeting, but the woman did not seem to be in any real distress and in fact seemed to be holding her own against the boisterous man that she tussled with. It was enough to cause one corner of Brogan's mouth to slant upward in a smile. It was obvious the man and the hostess were at least old friends - if not something more.<br/><br/>Brogan's eyes roamed over the crowd. His gaze is unassuming but also unflinching. He avoids no one, no matter the dirty stares that his look might garner in return. His eyes meet the portly bookseller chewing on his pipe, though it might be obvious to most that Brogan was not a collector of tomes, recent or otherwise. His eyes move on to the half-elf selling cigars, and Brogan licked his lips for a moment. A cigar was an occasional treat that he indulged in, and after their harrowing incident on the boat that now rested at the bottom of the ocean (along with its captain), Brogan believe that was reason enough to indulge.<br/><br/>But not at this exact moment. At this moment, his mug and plate were served, and he paid the appropriate coinage - along with a fair tip - and settled into his drink and food with a barely-contained ferocity. His ears were open, though, listening to the other three if they spoke, curious to learn more about them.