"Oh go on, Drory." Said a kinder, yet just as gruff, woborc voice from in back. "Give 'er a discount, then."
"Nope." said the borc guarding the counter. "No credit." A large wooden spoon reach from behind him and smacked him on the nogin. Drory adjusted himself, "'Sept to those what the missus likes, I suppose. Five bits, but no lower."
Amythra put her hands up. "Oh no, sir. I'm not looking for charity. Don't mind me, I'll just find another place."
"You'll have no luck there, deary." The woborc's voice from in back said. "Prices are pretty much set for inns around here. You'll have to walk all the way back to the docks to get a better price."
Drory shrugged. "She's right, you know. She's always right, that one." He shut his eyes.
Amythra gave it some thought and decided not to question it too much. She'd be careful, but Crate had told her once to recognize good will when it was offered, so out went the 5 bits she'd owe for the night. "Drat." said the borc. "Yer gonna make me work, aren't ya?" He put the money under his beard again and slowly got out of his chair. Drory's joints snapped and cricked as he rose, like the sound of a fresh log on the fire. After the first 20 snaps the last popped loudly and he was finished standing. "Oof. 'Felt that last one, Georra. Might need to see that feller again about me back."
"Stop complaining and she her a room, Drory. Poor thing must'a been stunned by the bizarre outside, what with the festival."
Amythra tried to look pass Drory to the woborc behind the doorway. "It's...uh...Then it's not normally like this, you saying?"
"Nope." Drory manured around the counter, keys jingling as he pulled them from his pocket, also somewhere under his beard.