"Hey, don't worry about it if you don't wanna share."  Nin shrugged.  "We all have skeletons in our closets."  She looked out the window again.  Someone's cart had tipped over, spilling many boxes out into the middle of the road.  A few patrons had gone outside to help.  Usually she would be right out there with them, but today she didn't feel like it.
"So, mystery man, if you don't wanna tell me where you're from, maybe you'd tell me where you were going?"

"Wow, you really don't wanna tell me, huh?"  Nin asked with a smile.  "No problem."  She stretched, looking out at the rain.  The cart had been righted, and the driver was now on his way.  She looked at Arran again, then raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe you should go back up and get some rest.  You look tired."  She stood.  "Your room's on the second floor, right?"

Nin sighed, watching Arran struggle to his feet.
"Goodness, do I have to do everything?"  She grabbed his arm, draping it over her shoulders and helping him back to the stairs.
"And you're gonna rest until I say you can get up, understand?"  She said sternly, starting up the stairs.  "You were beat up pretty bad, and you need to give those wounds time to heal."

"All right, up we go."  Nin helped Arran up the last few stairs, then down the hall.  It was deserted, the row of windows on the left gray and casting shadows on the right wall.
"If I remember correctly, I had you put in this room right here..."  She stopped before one of the identical wooden doors.  The door was unlocked, so they went inside.
"Here we are."  She said.  The room was sparsely furnished and slightly dusty.  She nudged Arran gently toward the bed.
"You should get some rest."  She repeated.  "If you need anything, my room's next door.  Just bang on the wall or something."  She offered a smile, then left him to his own devices.

Upon entering her own room, she let herself fall onto her own bed, staring out the window.  She didn't know why she was so interested in the mysterious young man.  She didn't understand why she wanted to help him so much.  She sighed.  Judging from the clouds, the rain probably would not stop for a few more hours.  Good.  She let herself drift off to sleep.

Arran jolted himself back into reality. The rain had been coming down on the roof for a while now, and the clap of thunder had brought him from his fitful sleep into consciousness. He tore the blankets off of his bed and stumbled out of his room. His head hurt, and whether it was from his quick rise or his as-yet-unhealed wound, he didn't care. He leaned against the wall of the inn, and let his throbbing head settle.

Thoughts and blood quickened through his head. He turned, his head resting against the wall, and stared into the room he now inhabited. The door was left ajar from his sudden exit, and it rocked gently on its hinges. The rain poured outside the window. Arran stared through both portals into infinite space. Portals. The thought made his head hurt, more than it already did.

A few minutes passed, his head comforted by the suddenly gentle patter of the rain. It was only then, after listening to the melancholy rain, that he noticed the small figure down below, outside of the Inn's sheltering eaves. His curiosity was piqued, certainly, but he felt not the strength to go investigate. He slunk down against the wall, his somnambulism for the moment banished. His eyes fluttered, and in the middle of the hallway he fell asleep.

Beams of sunlight poured through the window. Arran drowsily turned his head away from the intruding light, and unconsciously rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Awoken, he gathered his thoughts.

 It was strange to wake up feeling refreshed. To wake up feeling at ease. It had been a long time... He shook off the thought and stretched lazily, his arms reaching out over the blanket he was nestled in. Wait - a blanket? Taken by the nice surprise, he sat for a moment, wondering yet simultaneously knowing Nin had found him and covered him last night. He took a moment, letting the thought sink in. He then stood, marveling at the lucidity he felt in his head. Reaching down, he picked up the blanket, and threw it over his shoulder. He'd needed that rest. For once he'd slept without restlessness. It was a nice change.

He slowly stepped down into the Inn's first floor. The descent evoked memories of just yesterday, where he had been stepping into the unknown. Now, as he strode down the stairs, he was comforted by the memories of the Inn. Everything was in place, the same. Unchanged.

He sat down at the bar, hoping to catch a glimpse of Nin. Despite the morning hours, the Inn was densely packed. He cut an odd figure: his hair askew, his clothes rumpled, and a blanket across his shoulders. Not that he noticed. He was looking for someone.

Xander, breathed steadily laying on the bar side fast asleep after his rather long night of drunken fun.

He lay directly behind a large mug, and any around would have heard the faint snoring he made, as he lay face down, he snorted and steadily woke up, bit by bit.