Of all places to be meeting her 'estranged husband', Revan couldn't believe her eyes when she finally arrived at the designated contractual location. The tavern, a dank and musky building called Windfall, was packed with patrons already getting a head start on the nights festivities and celebrating. It made for a very noticeable entrance, even with the cloak that hugged the elf's frame, and hid her features beneath its hood. The young woman pushed past the eyes she felt sink her way and stepped in from the crisping air of the setting sun, paying no one any particular mind on the outside. On the inside, her grey eyes were scouring the faces of the people she could indulge with her sight, seeking their body language to tell her their underlining motives. From the look of things, most were just curious about the newcomer, and couldn't care beyond that to give her another glance, returning to their mugs of ale and conversations.
So far, so good. No sign of anyone leering in the shadows, ready to keep tabs on her movements, but that could change in a moment's notice. This was going to become a silent argument with herself now, no matter where her feet carried her; who to trust, and who to deal with. Snakes were easily disguised in tall grass, and it felt like Revan was wading in nothing but an endless sea of the unknown. It was a completely foreign feeling to her usual contracts or daily activities; normally the elf wouldn't have been caught so easily out in the open, no matter how many witnesses were gathered. The blond woman always worked better from the shadows, and that's where her comfort zone resided.. not in lightly coloured adventure gear, without her main weapons for reassurance. The bow that was usually strapped to the woman's back had been replaced by a silver sword, one she was familiar with, but usually only saved for when she couldn't discreetly dispatch a target. In fact, the only piece of attire she was currently wearing that resembled her usual outfit was the cloak that still hugged her from being fully seen by wandering eyes.
Easing into the bustle of tables, the rogue found one near the back of the main hall, slightly shrouded from the cast off of the fireplace not too far away. As she made herself comfortable, stripping her cloak from her back, and got seated, a slender human made her way towards the table. With a weary smile, the clearly young girl cleared her throat to get Revan's attention, flattening her apron a little nervously. "What can we get you, miss? We still 'ave a couple beds, a few hot meals, and the town's brewery at our disposal." The barmaiden waited patiently for a response, taking the elf in before her; eyes wandered over the dreadlocks fastened upon her head that had been pulled back from her face, and then left to continue to drape down her back, to the tattoos or markings that were etched over her pale skin. Revan ignored the way this woman was seemingly lapping up her appearance, and eased back in her chair, lifting her boots to the table's surface to recline comfortably. "A room, and for now? Ale." Withdrawing her coin purse, the blond eased the appropriate payment towards the barmaiden on the table, and then allowed her to tend to the elf's request.
Only it wasn't the same woman to return with the requested drink. Instead of it being the dusky brunette that had a slightly timid air about her, a stocky man approached her table rather abrasively - or perhaps he thought it was confidence? At first, Revan almost questioned if this was the man she was to be meeting, but after giving him a once over, she knew there was no way; the oaf approaching her was too clumsy, his footwork was genuine and probably a cause of repetitive drinking. He wouldn't last a minute fighting a babe, let alone someone of her skill and sobriety. "There was a problem wit' your drink, sweetheart," he mused as he reached the table side carrying two mugs, right beside where her legs had been comfortably propped up. "Problem to drink alone." A cocky smirk cracked over his lips, thinking his little line was going to get him anywhere other than an airy scoff and an annoyed response.
"I'm not going to be alone." The elf plainly responded, her tone flat. To anyone with a brain cell, it would've been clear she wasn't interested. He glanced around, making it obvious she was, in fact, alone. Easing both of the mugs onto the table's surface, it freed up his left hand to take hold of her right ankle, his fingers already kneading into the leather boot that covered her foot to her shin. "Not now, no.. pretty girls like you shouldn't be alone." What happened next wasn't even a thought for rogue, it was all instinct. Kicking her right foot from his grasp, she rammed the heel of her boot into the mug he'd settled on the surface of the table, and sent it flying into his groin. Immediately, there was a gasp of air that withdrew from his lips, and he hunched down with a groan of rage and pain. By the time his head was back up, eyes glaring and focused on the woman across from him, she'd re-positioned her legs from being accessible to him, tucking them under her in case she had to stand quickly. Without a pause, the second mug he'd brought to the table was lifted and sipped from, adding some insult to injury with the gulp.
"You fuckin' knife ear!" The oaf's mood instantly changed from being over confident and promiscuous to enraged, and the growing audience they had circling their table was just fueling his anger even further. To have a woman, such a nameless woman at that, make such a fool out of him in front of people he saw on a regular basis? Those hands that had been a little too free-roaming now clenched the side of the round table, and cast it aside as though it were a leaf, erupting a small shriek from the table of patrons he'd sent it flying into.
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