<strong>Lymsa's Cove<br/>Treasure Tavern<br/>Ry, Farren, Madison.</strong><br/><hr/>The tavern owner was slumped in his chair, with the rush finally having died down. It had been such a grueling week for him, even more so than what the Festival usually meant. First his waitress had walked out with that Hunter, and then...<br/><br/>The man's eyes widened as Ry walked into the door. He heaved himself up, unsheathing his dagger as he watched him sit at a table and have the nerve to order bread. With thundering, heavy footsteps, the owner marched across the floor to Ry, grabbing him by the collar and placing his knife at his throat.<br/><br/>"You!?" He snarled, half-barked at the traveler. When he got a closer look at Ry's face, his shoulders fell a bit in relaxation. Wrong guy. With a grumble, the owner released him from his grip, putting his weapon away.<br/><br/>"Tch." He spat, walking away. It was not his day.<br/><br/>Many of the patrons had left, others passed out drunk, with just a few remaining in the late hours of the night. Food had been served, bellies filled, and ales drank. The bustle of the Tempest Festival outside also quieted down in the final night, finishing just as the Tempest would dissipate. Dragging himself to the kitchen, the owner spoke to Madison.<br/><br/>"Ev'ryone's gon'," he slurred, having began to drink his problems away. To this moment, he still had no idea what possessed Madison to take over the kitchen, but he didn't care. Nothing made sense to him anymore. Still in a drunken stupor, he told Madison he could finish up and take some food from the kitchen with him if he so desired. His wife had since retired to her own room, and the owner passed out on the chair behind the counter without even making it home. Those travelers who came in later at night wishing to stay would find themselves out of luck.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><em>Item:</em> [Leftovers] – Prepared by Madison.</span>