The White Horse

[Sapphire_Flame]

That tall man in the corner was continually drawing Matau's eye. He tried to keep the glances as surrepticious as possible; he knew from experience that if someone deliberately seated himself in a corner like that, he did not wish to be noticed. Matau could see the man's eyes glittering inside his hood, staring, but not at anything in particular. Deep in thought, evidently.

Matau shifted slightly in his seat, stretching out his legs. He urged his gaze away from the tall man, content to watch him peripherally as he surveyed the rest of the room. A large group sat a little ways away from him, talking. Near them, another man, dark-haired and wrapped in a cloak, seemed to have dropped out of the conversation, and, Matau noted, dropped off to sleep. No, his eyes were slightly open; just dozing maybe, or watching the group beside him.

Scanning the room again, Matau held a small debate with himself, whether to speak to one of the men, or to remain silent, and wait for one of the others to speak to him. As a Ranger, and knowing from personal experience, he knew that getting into a conversation with just anyone was a good way to get into trouble. It was also just as good at finding you a trustworthy companion.

Matau noticed the dark-haired man was watching him with half-closed eyes. As usual, the solution had presented itself without any help from him. Matau beckoned for the man to join him.