The door was tossed open with such force that the wall it collided with shuddered, threatening to buckle. Whether the wind caught it and helped it along (which was entirely plausible; the rain had begun, and the newcomer's coattail whipped wildly behind him from the winds that accompanied it) or the stranger was simply careless and violent, it was difficult to tell. He strode in as if he owned the place, and the woman behind the bar glowered at him immediately. This didn't necessarily mean much, as she rather glowered at everyone... but one of her serving girls who had been in the middle of drawing the shutters of one of the windows caught sight of him and immediately fled back to the bar, her blue eyes wide with fear.
They recognized this man. He'd been here before.
"Room for one more?" He spoke loudly, as if trying to gather the attention of all present in the room. Morgen furrowed his brow at the voice, and suddenly went pale. He knew that voice. There were those with sight who claimed they never forgot a face; he could say the same, with voices. Why, though?! Here, of all places?
Hard leather boots thumped audibly against the floors as he prowled inside, not even bothering to close the door behind him. He was a tall, lanky man with a head full of dark hair. His eyes were a shade of brown so dark they may as well have been black, and there was an almost playful mirth in them. He couldn't have been any older than thirty-five or so, and his steps were purposeful, confident.
"Not fer yer sort, Bast" The old woman behind the bar spat. Her hand dropped behind the counter, no-doubt to some homemade weapon. She was a good foot and a half shorter than the stranger, and probably had twenty years or so on him, age-wise. Nonetheless, the old bird was ready to defend her property, little as it was.
"Morwen..." The boy spoke quietly, and even with the rain rattling the roof above their heads, he still felt as if everyone could hear him. That was the fear, it was making him paranoid. "We g-gotta go..." It occurred to him that if they bolted for their room, the man would take notice of them... but sitting here, out in the open, he would see them anyhow! At least if they ran, he might spare a disinterested glance, and not think anything more on it...
"I love it when you play hard to get, Rali," Bast purred towards the barkeep. He was smiling, but there was nothing friendly about that smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes. Even with that smile plastered on his face, he was eyeing the old woman like he was picturing what her insides would look like on the outside. She must have sensed this as well, because her eyes narrowed... yet she still did not whip out whatever weapon she had under the counter. "But come, now..." He continued, lifting his left hand to turn a ring on his right middle finger about. The stone in the ring was rather big, almost gaudy... and inscribed upon its facets were intricate runes. "You know I only stop in to see if anyone wants to make a bit of coin. Take on a... once in a lifetime opportunity..." His eyes scanned those present in the common room, a curious cursory examination. His eyes narrowed briefly towards Johannes and Ezra; they were interesting, certainly out of place... perhaps not good candidates. He almost skipped over Morgen and Morwen entirely, but something caught his eyes, recognition, and his attention snapped back to them. Perhaps it would be his downfall that his focus was aimed towards the kids, and not the potentially dangerous hunter in the room. He hadn't even really considered the idea that the man at the other table was a hunter; this recruiter was far too used to being the big fish in the little pond, the feared one.
"Aren't you two far from home?" Morgen had placed his hands on the table, starting to stand, but the sudden query, aimed in their direction, froze him. They'd been spotted. The stranger gave a short laugh, then. "Your real home, I mean. That hole-in-the-wall we rescued you from was hardly a home at all. Why, of all the places in Ogden, would you be trying to get back there?!"
It was just their bad luck. Any old Miraculum out of the Wastelands could have walked in here and skimmed right over the twins. So why did the one who came strolling in here have to be the same man that had 'recruited' them from their home in the first place? He stepped up behind Morgen, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder to push down, encouraging him to sit again. Morgen did so with little resistance, unsure of what else to do. Should he skinwalk? Should he get Spot?
"You leave them kids alone now!" Rali snapped from behind the counter. She drew her weapon out now, and it was almost pitiful in the face of the Miraculum Enchanter: a piece of genuine lumber -- not the petrified wood so abundant in these parts -- with rusted nails sticking out in all directions of the compass on one end. "They're payin' customers!" She'd never admit it, but she also didn't want to see any kid hassled by his likes. She had seven of her own, though three died in their youth and the rest were grown and gone, scattered to the winds.
"Take one step from behind the counter, Rali, and I'll burn this whole place down. Petrified or not... I can assure you, it will burn." His hand remained on Morgen's shoulder, but now his eyes flickered to Morwen. He gave her a sweet smile. "Hello again, sweetheart..."
