I kind of like the way cold weather sets a scene, you know? It makes the inn setting feel very cozy. In fact, perhaps that will influence our February story time as well.
If you’d like to influence February story time, I direct you to our Patreon, where for a mere twenty bucks a month, you can have my ear.
Tessa wiped her brow and sighed, surveying the clean floor. It may have been a slow night in a strange town—strange as in odd, not unfamiliar—but at least the floor was clean. It wasn’t often she got the chance to properly scrub the place.
The inn had been following a trio of adventurers for a while now. It had been several years since Tessa refurbished and opened the Goblin’s Head, and she occasionally had to remind herself that it was not a normal life she was living, hopping from place to place. She rather liked this particular set of adventurers, a friendly, lively bunch. They seemed as though they’d had a difficult day, though; no sooner had the party arrived than they’d asked for their dinner sent up and gone to bed. Poor dears.
The odder thing, though, was the distinct lack of other customers. Only one or two had come through the whole day, and they had been furtive and wide-eyed, as if ordering a cider and a meal was some sort of illicit act. They hadn’t spoken to each other and they’d barely spoken to her, eating as if they were in a hurry, taking an insultingly short amount of time to savor their cider, and scurrying off.
At least it gave her time to clean the floor properly, which was satisfying even if it wasn’t profitable.
Right. A thorough scrubbing had kept her awake almost as long as a dining room full of guests, so it was time for bed. Tessa flicked the scrub brush dry above the bucket, put it in her apron pocket, and picked up the bucket to go dump it out behind the inn.
Knock knock knock.