Snippet #834336

The Spotted Calf was quietly busy, as it tended to be at that hour, but as she had only awakened a few hours before the woman at the bar was less than keen on fulfilling her complete service. She smothered a yawn with the back of her hand, and handed across a slip of paper with a pair of numbers etched upon it. She then waved for one of the girls who had just finished unloading a tray full of vittles to a table of soldiers.

Delia hurried to the woman who had beckoned her, wiping her hands off on her apron and shooting a flirtatious, scolding look back at the soldier who thanked her for the food with a pinch. Brushing a fistful of rich brown curl over her mostly bare shoulder, Delia greeted Martin with a smile warm enough to light the empty fireplace. Though he had clearly done a bit of traveling, she recognized his clothing and his bearing as one who had business in the castle.

"Godden, Milord. Will ye have a bite to eat, then? We've still room to sit, we could have ye and yer lady friends settled for a bit 'til the feel of the road 'as faded from yer feet. Ye'll find no finer lamb stew within a fortnight's ride." Delia motioned to a table at the corner of the room, tucking her empty tray under her arm.