The Quicksand was empty as it usually was in the short bell between "too late to drink anymore" and "too early to begin drinking." He was thankful for that on account of not wanting to make too much of a scene when he showed up still stained with Askier's blood. The flipside of that was that when there's no one to keep an eye on, all eyes turn towards the door when someone enters.
Warren raised a hand to try and calm the situation, looking behind the bar for Momodi's usual spot. He was pleased to find her, a small amount of the weight sliding from his shoulders as he crossed to the wide-eyed Lalafell.
"Warren? Why are you covered in blood?" He question wasn't one of exclamation as much as it was demanding explanation. He'd done enough good work for her that she trusted him to not be a crazy axe-murderer.
"It's not mine. There was a situation. It's taken care of. I need to clean it up and my place... It's not an option." He elects to leave the details out. "I've got some things in my room here. I won't make a mess and I'll be gone after first light." He kept his gaze away from her, feeling like a teenager making confession by not admitting anything.
"Warren..." Her tone was sympathetic and maternal. "You look like you've been through a couple'a hells." She didn't need to lecture him because she knew the words were going to echo in his head anyway.
"I know. I know, Momodi. Look, I'll think about it, alright? I've got a lot on my mind. No time to rest, you know how it is."
"You smell like it, too." She held her stone gaze for a moment before giving him a small grin. "You take as long as you need, dear. You know your money's good here as long as you keep tipping like always." Warren offered a small smile back that never reached his eyes.
**
Warren came to an unknown amount of time later as the sun drenched the room through the window. He bolted upright, already chastising himself for having dozed off despite his muscles' complaints at being moved. He winced and growled in return, forcing his body upright. Before him was his surcoat and armor, one half of it scrubbed and polished and cleaned while the other was caked brown with the remnants of the previous night's ventures. His tabard was thrown into a corner, an ugly pile of colors that wasn't fitting of a paladin. Warren pinched his nose and sighed, tracing his steps. He was in his small clothes, chest bare and had likely immediately gotten to the task of cleaning his armor, but the memory was foggy.
He got to his feet and began to collect his things, put them in order before finishing his task. That was when he noticed the plate on the small table near the door, a small breakfast of bread and cheeses sitting and waiting for him. He couldn't recall if he had brought it himself or if someone had come into the room and left it for him while he slept.
Warren raised a hand to try and calm the situation, looking behind the bar for Momodi's usual spot. He was pleased to find her, a small amount of the weight sliding from his shoulders as he crossed to the wide-eyed Lalafell.
"Warren? Why are you covered in blood?" He question wasn't one of exclamation as much as it was demanding explanation. He'd done enough good work for her that she trusted him to not be a crazy axe-murderer.
"It's not mine. There was a situation. It's taken care of. I need to clean it up and my place... It's not an option." He elects to leave the details out. "I've got some things in my room here. I won't make a mess and I'll be gone after first light." He kept his gaze away from her, feeling like a teenager making confession by not admitting anything.
"Warren..." Her tone was sympathetic and maternal. "You look like you've been through a couple'a hells." She didn't need to lecture him because she knew the words were going to echo in his head anyway.
"I know. I know, Momodi. Look, I'll think about it, alright? I've got a lot on my mind. No time to rest, you know how it is."
"You smell like it, too." She held her stone gaze for a moment before giving him a small grin. "You take as long as you need, dear. You know your money's good here as long as you keep tipping like always." Warren offered a small smile back that never reached his eyes.
**
Warren came to an unknown amount of time later as the sun drenched the room through the window. He bolted upright, already chastising himself for having dozed off despite his muscles' complaints at being moved. He winced and growled in return, forcing his body upright. Before him was his surcoat and armor, one half of it scrubbed and polished and cleaned while the other was caked brown with the remnants of the previous night's ventures. His tabard was thrown into a corner, an ugly pile of colors that wasn't fitting of a paladin. Warren pinched his nose and sighed, tracing his steps. He was in his small clothes, chest bare and had likely immediately gotten to the task of cleaning his armor, but the memory was foggy.
He got to his feet and began to collect his things, put them in order before finishing his task. That was when he noticed the plate on the small table near the door, a small breakfast of bread and cheeses sitting and waiting for him. He couldn't recall if he had brought it himself or if someone had come into the room and left it for him while he slept.
![[Image: yEROfKO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yEROfKO.png)
