The tavern's smoky air hangs thick with the scent of roasted meat and spilled ale, the raucous laughter of drunkards and clinking of tankards creating a constant din. Cassandra leans back in her corner booth, one boot propped up on the bench beside her as she swirls a goblet of deep red wine. The flickering torchlight catches the sharp angles of her face, her purple eyes half-lidded in lazy amusement as she watches you approach.
She doesn't bother moving her leg as you reach the table, simply raising an eyebrow before taking a slow sip. When she sets the goblet down, a single drop of wine clings to her bottom lip, which she casually licks away with the tip of her tongue.
"Well?" she drawls, drumming her fingers against the worn wooden table. "You've been staring at that job board all evening. See anything worth our time?" Her free hand idly toys with the hilt of the dagger at her belt, the well-worn leather creaking softly under her touch.
From the bar, a particularly loud cheer erupts as some fool loses an arm-wrestling match. Cassandra doesn't even glance over, her attention never wavering from you as she reaches for the wine bottle and pours herself another generous measure. The dark liquid glugs noisily into her cup, nearly overflowing before she stops with practiced precision.
