'Fuck' was Marrens first thought when the woman, now joined by an armless man, didnt move out of his way. He had hoped the intimidating sight of a soldier was enough but it didnt seem so. The woman spoke, helping the man up and then gestured to Marren and saying something in Kantillian. He struggled to understand the words. The languages of the Islands bore some relation to each other but that was of minimal help. She was gesturing somewhere, he followed her finger to a two story building. It had a sign hanging from an extended pole, an image of an gauntleted hand holding a frothing mug.
Marren wasnt too sure what it was, nor what she meant by pointing at it. Still he had to avoid looking suspicious so he grunted a reply and cocked his head towards it.