Yes

You hop off your barstool and follow Garth over to the silhouette of a woman standing in the doorway... just in time for her to pitch forward into the tavern. Instinct kicks in, and you find yourself lunging forward and sliding across the wood floor, reaching out just in time to catch the girl before she cracks her head.

Not that it helps much. You stagger under the sudden weight, trying to gently lower the half-**** waif to the floor; something hot and wet coats your hand as her hood falls away, revealing a head of blonde hair dyed pink and perky cat ears over a face caked with mud and dirt. Worse, the back of her head is flecked with dried blood that rubs off on your hand. She must have taken a nasty blow before stumbling in.

"W-who..." she whimpers, blinking her big blue eyes at you and reaching out a hand. "An elf?"

Grunting, Garth rips a strip of his apron off, pushing it against her head wound. "It's not bad, but she'll need healing," he whispers to you. "Keep her talking; I'll try and clean this up."

Grateful for the old wolf's assistance, you take the cat-girl's hand and ask, "What's your name, then?"

She moans, blinking hard to clear away the fog of her injury. "Caitriss," she finally answers. "My name is Cait. I... we were..."

"Easy," Garth tells her, tying a bandage off around her brow. "You took a bad hit, lass. Let's get you sat down, eh?"

Cait nods weakly, and you and Garth manage to get her standing. She stumbles at first, but regains some semblance of her bearing by the time you find an unoccupied seat and sit her down to ask what happened.