Fuzzy: The Dragons Den
Cass Mordane would likely never admit it to another living soul, but he might be getting spoiled. He couldn't remember the last time he had to sleep under an onion cart, or curl up next to some drover's dogs to keep warm.
Cass had eventually moved up to a blanket and a place on the floor of some common room of a hole in the wall tavern or inn on the outskirts of Restov thanks to earning a few coins busking in the streets.
As Cass became a better entertainer, the flow of coins increased and where to sleep was less of a concern. Getting sleep was another matter. Cass had begun to spent every spare coin on the Aldori dueling arts, and that meant many long nights of exercise, practice, and sparring.
Then came the Charter and Cass hitched his star to Midmarch and the keen plans of Henry LeMaistre. Henry kept his teams' patrol times short, especially with the approach of inclement weather. And he was kind enough to provide lodging for the members of the Tusk Town City Council.
So when the cold wind drove Cass off the streets and into the warm, cozy surroundings of The Dragons Den, it had been awhile since he had felt so closed in upon. But that was always the way of the coming winter, wasn't it?
Cass stopped blowing on his hands for warmth and looked around the room to see who was present. Then he shook off his chill and stepped to the bar.
"A warm cider please. If it is hot enough to scald a wyvern's tail, I won't complain. I will just draw the heat into my bones. If it is hard enough to stagger a dwarven wrestler, then I won't mind at all. I will just count it as medicinal."
Cass tried to hide the rumbling of his stomach as well. "And if it is not too much trouble, a bit of that dark bread that the locals call Nick. And a bowl of your house stew. If it has game in it, that would be a delight. I know the local cuisine is still in progress, but if I have to eat another eel, I will likely have spotted kittens about the issue."