Lokin returns to the common room, having removed his armor. He still wears his undyed wool shirt and mud-spattered gray trousers, and cracked, black leather boots. Lokin also still carries his bastard sword, sheathed at his left hip in a battered wooden scabbard. He eyes the common room for a moment, his eyes falling on the trained bird for a few seconds, before he joins his companions Kol and Payne.
"I fell asleep. I guess I was mored tired...or had more to drink than I realized."
Lokin runs a hand through his short, brown hair and continues to rub the sleep from his deep set eyes. Without his armor, he appears much less intimidating. While taller than the average man, he could easily be a farmer or laborer. Only the blade at his side gives him away.
"So...still nothing, eh?"