LOG: Tavern, Elza and Clive
It was late.
Late enough that the tavern was finally quiet. The lamps were dim and the wooden tables bare, unoccupied. Stars glittered through the windows, the distant treeline black and barely visible between the curtains.
Clive had found a quiet, dark corner table far from the bar and seated himself on the bench, in front of the window. He still wore his dusty grey cloak with the hood tugged up, but the empty glass in front of him bore evidence that he had evidently staked out that seat and had been sitting for some time, glad to wait. The long weapon had been propped against the wall behind him. It was wrapped in fitted leather and its sling hung down; it looked well cared for.
He had looked tired before, but now his eyes were lined and his face was pale, strained. He had fended off further efforts to be served with a terse, polite "No, thanks," in favour of sitting alone. Though he seemed to be trying to maintain an air of composure, beneath the table one knee was moving, drumming his boot heel faintly against the floor.
There was a small candle resting on the table. The tiny flame guttered.
OOC: Annnd done! I hope this works all right for you...! I apologise if it's lengthy; it's a force of habit XD;