Wisrick’s hazy eyes slowly scanned the impressive scale of the fortified city before him. The mess of it, the squalor from the crowds, the jumbled disorganization where stands skew sideways and strangers leer and customers pour themselves over curious fruits, it excited him. He was also nervous. His pale, slender fingertips slipped along the seam of his coat. Too warm to be wearing his coat. He began to shrug it off, his hungry eyes unsure where to land.
He hardly noticed the gentleman until he was nearly upon him. The boom of his voice made Wisrick nearly leap out of his skin. An awkward amount of time passed before he could find the words to reply. Did he look so lost?
He cleared his throat. “Wisrick.” he said, spluttering. “I mean- I’m Wisrick.” he stuck out his hand, hefting his heavy coat over one arm. “Can... can you tell me where the tavern is?”
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