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Myra Gailene froze as soon as she entered The Foxtail Inn where she had began her journey a couple of years ago. Something wasn't right. While the small inn looked the same, there was an overwhelming abundance of new scents that her nose had never processed before. New dishes, maybe? Master Milstead might be thinking of an exapansion if he's trying out new recipes in the kitchens she thought at she started to slowly walk into the inn. The smell started to thicken, threatening to suffocate her if she didn't step out for a breath of fresh air. What in the name of the Light was he cooking? There was a spicy aroma that came from a table to her left, a sweet smell from a table of giggling maids that looked to be on their break, and a sour smell from a table filled with half eaten food by a couple of angry old merchants. Walking up to the bar and sitting on one of the stools, Myra intended to find Master Milstead to ask what was new on the menu and if her friend Jessie was working today. However, he seemed preoccupied elsewhere and couldn't be found. It gave her some time to try to analyze the new smells. The more she tried to concentrate on one of them, the more it seemed like it came from the people than the food. Myra shook her head to rid herself of the thought. That's just absurd! Why would people smell... sour? Then she giggled. Maybe they just need a shower. The spicy aroma came from a woman trying to flirt with this man and she passed it off as perfume. No wonder the poor guy looks uncomfortable. I can smell that perfume all the way over here! Then again that person in the hat that had stared at her smelled of the forest and freedom. Freedom? How do I know what freedom smells like? A bolt of movement besides her made her give a little start. The drunken man in the stool next to her had just leaned away from her, nearly falling out of his stool, and had wide eyes in shock. No wonder those children ran away when I smiled at them. I must have more dirt on me than I thought. Then again when she had looked at her clothing, she hardly saw any dust at all. For a moment there, she had had to blink her eyes a few times as she thought she had seen each individual thread in her multitude of brightly colored skirts and scarves. She checked herself over again, and that's when she had to lean back because the man was peering intently at her face. Maybe he's just not used to seeing Tuatha'an in town. Or at all. It's a bit unnerving, though. The man then stood up and left, leaving a tip on the bar. "I musht be drunker than I thoughts," he hiccuped and mumbled almost inaudibly. Myra turned her head to look back after him. He was just turning out of sight right outside the door. "What did he mean by that, I wonder?" she said in a low tone so the person on the other side of her wouldn't hear. That's when she noticed that glint of gold coming from that person by the window again that wore a cloak with the collar turned up and a hat pulled down low. It wasn't her imagination this time. That had come from under the brim of that hat. The cloaked man was now looking at her again, as if weighing her up, and it made Myra a tad bit uncomfortable. She turned her head back, hoping that by ignoring him, he would turn away. After a couple of minutes, she ordered a glass of water from a new employee since the last time she had been here and laid a few coppers on the table to pay for it. The hairs on the back of her neck felt like they were standing up. That man was still staring at her. Turning her head to look back at him, the man casually turned his head to look out the window - and a small lock of red hair fell free from the hat. He's a... she? Curiosity took over her and she studied the woman while she wasn't looking. She wore dark green trousers that were nearly black tucked into turned-down leather boots. Under her black cloak she wore a matching dark green vest over a white linen shirt that tied up with a bit of leather string. The smoothness of her skin, the color of her hair, and her build had Myra confused. Why would she want to hide herself? If she had a body like that, she'd flaunt it at every chance she had. The woman turned her head once more and Myra quickly buried her face in her glass of water. A slight blush crept up on her face. I hope she didn't think I was just oggling her... Wait, then why does she keep staring at me? Oh Light!