● Jack Greymoss ●
Knock….knock….knock!
Jack started at the series of firm raps. ‘Now who can that be?’ he muttered to himself. A few short steps and he reached the door. His hand hesitated, and he leaned near the door, trying to hear through it. No use, the wood was too thick.
He turned the handle and drew open the door a crack. One of the Hobbit lasses, One who worked here by the look of it. She had a pile of towels in her arms and an expectant smile.
He opened the door just a bit wider. ‘Wotcher want, missy?’ he asked, giving her a considering look.
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