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This seems to be the right place. He thought to himself, a bit unsure as to exactly what that meant. It felt right though, to have come here, to the Crow's Nest, even the watchman had known that. He reached out and let his hands feel the heat form the flame of the small table lamp. He held his right hand close to the light and saw the saw that the light lit the flesh of his finger, around the bone, into a bright red. For a moment his hands felt eerie and lighter then air, as though the heat and glow from the candle had seeped into his hand and was pushing it up into the air. He felt disconnected to his hand, as though it was floating there in space, someone else's hand. Then a thick earthenware mug of ale banged down onto the table.

He looked at the drops of ale that had fallen onto the table, and the white bubbles that were forming in the small puddles. Before the bubbles truly had time to form a deft hand pulled a grey washcloth from an apron waistband and encircled the spilt ale with the cloth. The circular motion of the cloths continues until the ale was gone. With a snap the cloth looped over in the air, was caught by the female hand and tucked knowingly back into the apron's waistband.

"I'm sorry," He said looking up at the woman, who was holing a tray of similar mugs of ale, "I didn't order this."

"No you didn't. But she did." The waitress knelt down bringing her free arm close to his eye level and pointing at a group of people sitting at a table near the bar. "The lady there, with the grey riding dress and the black hair."

He leaned forward and followed her arm to see a woman sitting at a table with three other people. She was looking at him, her black hair combed in such a way that implied immaculate, and he knew, even from this distance, that her eyes were green

"I don't know her."

"She says she knows you." The waitress straightened her legs and began to walk away. "That or she made a mistake and you got a free drink. Not the worst thing ta happen to a man alone in a bar."

Hesitating for a breath, he lifted the mug of ale into the air and awkwardly returned the toast of the black haired woman in the grey riding dress. He took a sip and put the drink back down on the table.

"Is this the nut ale?" He called to the waitress who was making her way back into the thick of the crown.

"Yup." She called without turning around.

It is good for what ails you. He thought, taking another sip.