[Klayko]

Elijah was rubbing the partially thick stubble of hair on his chin while writing in a journal when he heard the voice address him as boy. He exhaled smoke from his mouth, letting the thick gray smoke roll through the air as he walked over to figure.

"Sure," his voice said in a mellophonic tone, not all too deep nor too light. His father raised him to put on a mature act in more places than one after all. He couldn't have a "frilly dreamer" as he often put it. "There's two more rooms left on the third floor. Anything else I can get you?"

He didn't think much of the taller and clearly older man. What was there to think? Out in these parts, most barely got several Wanted Posters that were even accurate. At the Haven, most hardly stayed around long due to the curse of they were traveling. The men would have to come into town, stock up on provisions and get back to their wives and daughters outside of the area before moving onward if they had another place to go to. As a result, Elijah could have been talking to numerous wanted fugitives, but wouldn't know nor would most care. Not even the Sherrif for that matter. Instead, he sported a casual smile in the well lit bar as he awaited to hear back from the man.