An empy seat..

The bartender motions for you to sit, giving a smile and placing a pint on the tall and long, oak table which stretches to the wall and rounds at the other end towards a doorway leading to the tavern's kitchen.

Sitting down at the bar your senses are assaulted by the smells of the day... rank sweat, sweet ale, and flowery perfume seep into your nostrils... Your ears ring at the sounds of the lively tune coming from the far corner near the large dark stone hearth. Feet shuffle to the music and an indecipherable mixture of voices float through the air.

Weir takes a seat at the bar and orders a drink. "So, who is up for a game of cards?" he says as he takes a big drink.

Having snuck out again under her mother's nose. Aaminah didn't drop the hood of the cloak until she reached the bar. She took a seat at an empty stool and ordered a goblet of wine and glanced about," Lo there Sir... Weir was it?"

She wasn't in the mood for cards- but would she try dice again tonight....

Weir raises his drink and toasts Aaminah, saying "Well, I wish you better luck at dice tonight than you had last night. I suggest you face a different opponent."

Maybe you're right... One night of bad dic can't follow me around can it?

With that she toasts to Weir, and heads to the table to give it another go.