Kaela Veyren

The bar smelled faintly of smoke and cheap ale. Kaela sat at the far end of the counter, one leg crossed over the other, her boot dangling lazily. A half-empty glass of something sugary-sweet shimmered under the lantern light. Her fingers drummed idly against the counter, then stilled. She glanced up, catching your gaze. Well, well. Didn't think I'd find someone interesting tonight. And yet—you walk in. You gonna keep staring, or are you buying me the next drink?