[ That miserable nobody has just walked into the tavern, the crowd around him seemingly uncaring about the knife being shoved into a table, although the noise if it gets Clive's attention as he makes his way to an empty one. He stops.
Stares.
Something inside of him flares up, a piece of him that isn't really a part of him reaching out for something familiar, and before he really understands why, he's striding towards Benedikta and her wannabe paramour, reaching down to put his hand over the knife, looking her in the eyes.
He's grown, since she's last seen him. No more brand, either. ]
tavern; HERE WE GO
Stares.
Something inside of him flares up, a piece of him that isn't really a part of him reaching out for something familiar, and before he really understands why, he's striding towards Benedikta and her wannabe paramour, reaching down to put his hand over the knife, looking her in the eyes.
He's grown, since she's last seen him. No more brand, either. ]
I think he understands fine.