Morning Preperations (**Open**)

[moiramacarran]

Moira would need ask the owner of the Inn if it ever closed for it seemed that no matter when she came here the doors were unlocked, the designated bar and eating areas always ready to go, the kitchen always staffed with people ready and waiting to serve any who had the coin to pay a hot meal and cold drink.
She moved down the steps that lead from the rooms, one of which was where she currently resided. Her palm skimming the banister rail as she took each step down, counting twelve in all, twelve steps in which the hem of her dress would have dusted were the Inn not allready perfectly clean.
Stepping from that bottom stair and into the dining room proper she shifted her hold on the bleached white and folded up apron she carried, letting it fall open and putting it on over the very plain though granted brown long woolen dress she had on. She was getting sick of brown clothing allready but the dark earthen tones didn't show stains as well as whites or any other light color that she would have preferred to wear.
The gathering in the dining area of the Inn was a small one, possibly because it was a mere 5 O'clock in the morning and truly she was surprised to see any here at all. But no matter how many were out and about she tied the apron strings snugly around her back in a few different knots, having discovered some patrons liked to screw with her and untie the strings as she walked past them so she solved that problem by triple knotting the strings. Granted it made removing the apron at the end of her shift a pain but it kept it on while she was dealing with serving people food and drink and not having to worry about tripping over a loose string some idiot untied thinking it'd be funny to see her fall on her face.
Heading to the kitchen she slipped inside, looking for something to do, Moira would much rather have a task to take care of at a job than to simply sit around doing nothing and being bored out of her mind.
A quick glance around showed her a metal bin filled with potatoes waiting to be peeled, they were washed first and waiting on someone to take a knife to them. She scooped up the bin, fished a knife out of a drawer and walked back out the door to step to a table. Sinking into a chair she did put the bin down and still holding the knife the first potato taken into hand and she started a long, yet time passing, process of cutting out bad spots, peeling, and chopping up the potatoes while the quiet lasted within the place.

[BlackSmith]

The taste of his own sweat still lingered within his mouth as it had been spreading it's beaded droplets along the top of his full lips. When heat surrounded you, the body protected itself and many would find it dirty and a distasteful line of work, but it showed how hard one had to do their duties. Burns could not be prevented, adding more scars to his already worn body. At thr ripe age of 42, he was far less worried about his appearance then someone who was still in their young adult age. The 'Iron Monger' had been closed for the night, leaving him alone in the streets. Others seemed to stop working when the sun went down, but the smithy, begun his finer pieces then as the quiet of the night and the night air moved through his windows. It was what helped him think, what helped him create master pieces from the hardest metals in the world. The skills that had to be learn, the patience one had to have for it, was not something anyone could simply step into, as he had learned but a few years ago. A cloth had been pulled from the bucket of water he used to cool the steel and was wiped over his broad chest, neck and face to get as much sweat as he could from his body before he had slipped on that dull and what was once, white, but now gray tunic. The items he always kept on his person, were brought with him as well as he headed down the near empty streets to find a tavern that was still open. A drink, to take away the taste and perhaps a late meal, was needed greatly. The briar rose always had wonderful people, or at least the tenders and tendress there. He could rely on quiet, no fighting at this time in the early morning, for hopefully all the drunks had long since passed out. Dark hair of onyx and coal had been pulled back from his face and tied with one thin bit of leather, but was not as neat as a comb would do as it hung at the nape of his thick neck.

One large hand pressed to the wooden door of the inn, moving it open to see what he had expected. Only a few still remained there, leaving tables abound empty and ready for him to sit within. Unlike others, who went to a corner and tried to find a place where no one would notice him, he chose the table by the bar, smack in the middle of everything. He wanted to be noticed, for he wanted a meal and drink. The weapons that he kept close were shifted along his side so that after he pulled the chair as quietly as he could and took a seat, it would not jab his leg or side. The smithy was a tired man at times, but with the line of work he did, could anyone blame him? Being tired, should not make one unsocial though. The same could be said about a kind smile. So early in the day, when all others were asleep, a smile could say so many things and truly took less effort then people made it out to be.

As the lovely tenderess came towards him, his head tilted back slightly so his masculine chin jutted out just a tad and a soft smile that did not reach his eyes, but was real never the less, was given to her. `` Morning my lady. If you could, a soft mead and would it be too late to ask for a meal? Nothing large of course. Perhaps a warm loaf of bread and some stew, beef or chicken does not matter me any mind. If I may, request extra broth within the stew for my bread? I would be a very well fed man. `` That tone, deep and rich moved from his lips gently, not forced. He had nothing to prove, only in need of a meal. The woman's shivers could be seen and he had pondered asking her if she had another form of clothing, but it was not his buisness to ask such. He had no idea whom else was working this time of day, but surely people would pop out sooner or later

[moiramacarran]

The tedious job of peeling and slicing the potatoes finish she rose from her chair while hearing the man who had entered place an order of food with the tendress. She moved to the kitchen at the same time the woman did and caught up with her easily. "I'll get the food, go get some sleep." Words spoken to the woman who looked ready to fall over and sleep where she stood. The grateful tendress thanked Moira and scurried off to go where ever it was she would make her bed, or with whoever.

Continuing to the kitchen now the bin of food dropped off with one of the kitchen staff, then making her way to one of the cooks the order was put in and she waited the short time for the order to come up prepared to prefection and ready to be served.

Hefting the tray up into hand Moira took it out to the dining room and stepped to the table where the man sat and placed it down before him. "Your order and will there be anything else this morning?" She took the time while awaiting his answer to look the man over, something she did with most people. For Moira, people were always a curosity, enigmas, something to figure out and allready her mind was working over what she took in of this one, her mindd working as she attempted to guess what he did, why he would be here so early - or late, ordering such a large meal, why he didn't flirt with the tendress who took his order, and on the list did go.

[BlackSmith]

The need to smoke a bit of his pipe was one that pressed into his mind more and more as the minutes ticked by. Finally, he could wait no longer and with so few people, he knew conversation would be little to none. The small sac at his side was pulled up and placed gently on the table, trying to make as little noise as possible. Reaching thick fingers towards the latch, he took his time undoing it and pulling the flap aside to reach in and withdrawal the wooden, whittled device that would give way for his smoking. Another thick clothed bundle was pulled out and placed on the table in front of him, where he carefully unwrapped it as it lay flat against the wooden table. Within, held the sweet tobacco that would soon be cast to flames and inhaled into his lungs.

Aaaah. The sweet taste rolled in his mouth as he sucked it in before his eyes shifted to see another bringing out his food. Damn, just as he had lit up. Leaning forward a bit, he wrapped up the tobacco and placed it back within his sac before looking up at the woman as smoke curled around his eyes and moved into the air. Sweet, just as it tasted. Lifting his right hand, he grasped the pipe and pulled it out before blowing the smoke away from her as she set his stew and bread down. `` Yes my lady, please some butter and spice if you have any. nothing too fancy, perhaps pepper. I would truly appreciate it. `` Unlike other men who would let their eyes drift down the forms of woman, he did not. His eyes remained on her own as he spoke and when she would move away, he would move them back to the table where his stew sat, filling the air with the wonderful smell of a meal. His stomach was already preparing for it.

[moiramacarran]

This, her last order she ever would fill, Moira nodded to the man. Turning on her heel she moved to the kitchen again to take up the butter, pepper, and even the salt, just in case it were needed. She didn't even pause to think about one question.. why were these not on the table?.. disregarding the entire and never evolved thought she moved through the kitchen, liking much how she did not have to weave through a dozen or so other kitchen workers and pressing the door open yet again, moving through it.

Steps carried her to the table where the man sat once more. Carefully placing the butter, pepper, and salt too, before him. "If there is nothing more, no dessert, anything such as that I will be quitting this job now. But.." Said as she raised her hand, extending her forefinger.. "Only if you need nothing more, I will not have a bad reputation of quitting a job with my last customer. You get the same attention as the first customer." This was a truth, she was not someone to walk out of a job, no matter the job, and leaving something undone. Moira had a habit of finshing something she was in the middle of, no matter what it may be. Her gaze locked on this man, waiting, trying not to hurry him with her penetrating gaze though she doubted he could be hurried no matter, he did not seem to be one who would hurry no matter who waited and even if they were trying to rush him along or not.