As they stepped inside, the familiar creak of the Iron Matron's heavy wooden door swung shut behind them. The warm, cozy hum of the inn embraced them, the smell of roasted meats and herbs mingling with the low murmur of voices from other patrons.
Valeria glanced around, instinctively scouting for an ideal seat and, spotting one by the fire, made her way to the left side of the inn. Meanwhile, Lucavion drifted toward a different corner on the right, drawn to the quiet and slightly secluded booth by the window.
"Perfect spot," "This place seems fine," they both muttered under their breath, their voices overlapping as they looked at each other, realizing their divided choices.
