[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/240909/abaf911833db73c04403dce43816ac2a.png[/img][/center] It was a faint spark, at first, flickering in the distance. Bane did not trust his eyes, then, head lolling this way and that as he ambled his way through the woods, numb from drink. The night had found him in bad company - a woman with sweet eyes, swift hands and a venomous smile had made off with his last coin as he slumbered with her beneath a tree. Perhaps, the only reason his armor and sword remained was that it was difficult to run off with them, without making too much noise. Eventually, as he drew closer, his nose told him that the light was fire, and with this fire came sustenance. The half-elf licked his lips in anticipation and pulled his hat down closer over his ears. Then, he made sure to approach loudly, to show that he was not approaching with ill intent. As the smell of food filled the air, Bane felt his stomach flip, still sour from liquor. [color=#0F80EF]"Won't be here long,"[/color] he began, his lips slow and cumbersome. [color=#0F80EF]"Just here to catch my breath."[/color] Not wishing to appear a worthless vagrant, Bane rooted about his pack and grimaced when he realized he had naught to offer. Even in his fatigue, he refrained from sitting upon the grass, and chose instead, to stand. Something about the old man reminded him about his father, and Bane despised how that made his chest tighten. He would have been about the same age, now. [color=#0F80EF]"I'll keep watch. You have... some nerve. Cooking up a storm, alone... when the wolves are howling for dinner."[/color]