Just a dream, right?

Rob awakened to the insistent knocking at his door. The dream quickly began to fade despite his desperation to cling to it. There had been something important, something about... and then it was gone entirely. He gave a soft groan at the loss and focused on forcing himself awake. His eyes found his own rooms. The drab stone construction had been covered with tapestries, curtains, and carpets, softening the hard edges and adding green fields and blue skies to a place that had neither. Vaguely he tried to recall where each had come from, who'd been begging his favor or courting his silence.

Twisting, he gave the plush rear of a green-haired elf a hard swat, waking her. "Don't you have coin to earn?" He rumbled and pushed himself upwards to sit. His feet landed on the stone floor between the rugs and he could feel the warmth coming through it from the laundry below. The best room in the house both for the warmth in Spree's hostile climate and for the privacy, sitting at the rear of the complex next to the back stairs.

The tapping at the door was momentarily drowned out by a squeak from the elf he'd been laying with and she stumbled to her feet, reassembling her clothes. He stood, the plush mattress giving a relieved sound, and moved to the door, not bothering to dress. Flinging it wide, he grunted "What?" as he reached out, gripping the heavy wooden cup from her hands, smelling the bitter coffee within. The smell alone was enough to rouse him some and improve his mood, though he didn't let it show.

"I was told to fetch you. A new girl arrived." The recitation was crisp and to the point, and he took the moment to examine the messenger. She had the fiery red hair common to the northern elvish city-states, and he vaguely recalled she'd been a messenger or a courier or something similar once upon a time. Her features bore the usual elvish delicacy, but there was the slightest downturn to her lips as if her resting expression was disappointment. He imagined an elf had a lot to be disappointed about.

"Who told you to bring the coffee?" He took a deep smell of it, letting it soothe him and take the edge off his bad mood. He was always in a bad mood after the dream. He couldn't remember it, but he knew it was the same one. It was always the same one, and it left him with the feeling he'd forgotten something, something important, and the vaguest feeling that someone had been poking around inside his head.

She shifted nervously, looking very small next to his bulk. She **** a smile though, answering without a stutter or an errant um-. "Nobody. You always have coffee in your hand though, and Varise sorry, Mise Varise, had just made a fresh pot when I was passing through the kitchens to get here. It didn't take but a moment to ask him to pour you a cup."

He sipped the drink, and it was indeed Varise' coffee, a touch too sweet and light for his taste, but good nevertheless. "Keen." He rumbled, reaching out to tousle her short hair. "What's your name?"

She practically beamed at the compliment, but he caught the doubt in her face when he asked her name. He knew she was wondering how someone so tied to her life and wellbeing could not even know her name. He sipped his drink, keeping his eyes on her until she'd battled down the emotions to answer. "Selise, sir." He didn't respond, continuing to stare at her until she answered in full. "Sel'vyse Al' Ailysaa Vy Marse."

"The messenger girl." He mused as he shifted out of the doorway to let his lover from the night before slip by them. He turned back into the room and began dressing. "You should get back to your work." He stated. Waiting until she'd turned to leave, he added, "Thank you for the coffee." As if it was an afterthought.