Out of Character:
clear...


Wynken occupied the darkest corner of the well-lit Promenade, his goblet of red wine resting daintily in the palm of his upturned hand. Before every sip he would stir the glass until centripetal force threatened to spill the liquid over its edge. The table and the drink had both become customary during his stay, and it was the only corner which conveniently afforded a full view of the establishment. It was evening, and, not wanting to miss his intended party, Wynken had spent the entire day in or around the tavern. The barkeep eyed him with incredulity. He was more curious than concerned, as Wynken showed no sign of ill intent.

Patrons came and went. A handful of local folks and other regular guests had begun to linger, but it was shaping up to be a slow night for the sleepy logging town. Under normal circumstances, Wynken would have avoided the place, enjoying the concealment of a noisy and crowded room. As it was, even private conversations rang out with clarity and all but the most discreet actions could be discerned through even passive observation. However, Wynken ignored the dealings of others and rather glowered at the doorway, seeking only his intended prey.

“Can I refill your glass”, a barmaid called from a few tables away. Unaware that she was speaking to him, Wynken ignored the request. The woman stepped closer eliciting a sneer as Wynken realized she had addressed him. She was a young and attractive woman, supple and curvy to the extent that she appeared out of place in the woodsman’s village. Wynken felt as if she belonged somewhere or to someone more refined. He lit a cigarette and traced the shape of her legs, exposed under a moderately short kirtle. “I can find my own way to the bar”, came his reply; loud enough that the nearest table turned to regard the scene. Confident they had reached an understanding, Wynken turned his attention once more to the now silent room.

At that moment, the door swung open and two more guests bounded in to the Promenade: Benson’s acquaintances. They entered one after another, and the first through the door noticed Wynken peering at them almost immediately. He pulled up to an abrupt stop, his comrade bumping him from behind. “What are you doing”, the man bellowed before maneuvering around to survey the bar for himself. “Oh”.