The days are much too bright.

The bartender quickly went to prepare the girl's drink, a little frightened and curious as to who these strangers were. Tic looked away from him and to the tavern's entrance, which remained closed. If the guardian had seen them, then he could be walking through that door at any moment. Miraye didn't seem to be as worried, but did seem to be angry at something. Her tone of voice and pushy manner showed it. But he tried not to let it bother him, though it did, and he ignored it.

There was a clink of glass against the wooden table; a cup was set upon its surface. The bartender spoke, his voice low and husky, "Anything for you?"

Tic turned his head back to the bartender, looking to Miraye's steaming goblet, then back. "Some tea, please," he said lightly, and rubbed his hands unconsciously together upon the countertop. He agreed silently with Miraye. The bloodied and dirtied garments did not help the fact that they were strangers, and if the town realized that he was being searched for, then he and Miraye would stick out like sore thumbs. They needed new clothes; something with a hood, preferably.

Tic's hand moved to cup his cheek, elbow resting on table, as a cup of a golden-transparent liquid was placed before him. Small slivers of steam rose from it, and he touched it with his free hand, testing its warmth. He glanced to the door again, when he realized -- how were they going to pay for this?