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[scurlock]

Earlier, the door opened to let in a patron, who took the relative quiet of the bar as an opportunity to slip through the main room unnoticed. After a check of the stables, which including looking in on all the stock and ordering a batch of supplies, he'd gone over some paperwork and his 'mail' at the bar (including the note from Will about the falcon residing in a quiet stall, which he probably should have bothered to check before coming across the bird on his own) and then headed upstairs.

When he comes down tonight, he's dressed warmly, and finds an open booth with a seat that will put his back to the wall and give him a relatively good vantage point of the room. The chill in the air and the few months he's spent out in the 'real world' are motivation plenty for old habits to flare back to life.

He places an order for a mexican hot chocolate and pulls a small notebook and pen from his pocket, and begins to write - though most of his focus is on the room around him, and not the words being inked onto the page.

[Open until I say otherwise, thought with being moved, I'd try to refresh a quieter voice...]

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[scurlock]

He shrugs a bit at that. "Sometimes that's what you have t'do to get things done right," he says, before returning his attention back more towards his notebook and his poetry efforts.