Perthcity Faire.

On the lawn that affronts the famously welcoming MacNab's Inn on the Tay the vendor stalls and puppet shows have set up. Further down by the city square the famous Scottish games have found a home. In the Inn itself, the tavern room is nearly full to bursting and you've found yourself sharing a table with a few other guests as you wait for your meal and drink.

"A rare faire to be this busy, seems as something is in the air this year." The older man has been entertaining the younger crowd with stories for the past hour, and now he sits resting back in his chair and contemplating the full tavern. His eyes look around to meet those around him, "Why, just last year we had half the custom we see now."

Teresa sniffs as she watches a waitress bumble past her carrying a tray too large and too full for even the most talented barmaid. What she wouldn't give to hop up from her table and stop the stupid girl. She turns away from the catastrophe waiting to happen and sips from her mug. Had she been home, she would have done just that, but she was on a mission to better her station, and that act just wouldn't do.

She tapped her nails against the wood and inspected the crowd, her eyes moving from one man to another. First inspecting their face, then their left hand. If worst came to worst she wouldn't worry about the hand, and go straight for the size of his purse. But she, like everyone, wanted a chance at happiness first.

The old man sighed as he realized that no one was listening to him. It was a cost to being older he suspected, and sat up a little straighter in his chair and focused on the nice young lady across from him. "Dear girl, might I ask what's brought you here this faire?"

Across the room a small tussle broke out, a well-dressed gentleman now lying on the ground as a rough looking young man stood over him. "See there, I don't care who you work for." A few of the gentleman's friends moved to help him up as the crowd quickly pushed away. The young man soon standing alone, a fact he did not seem to notice.

The gentleman slowly dusted himself off as he regained his feet, "You have a nice day then John."

The younger man looked about ready to fight, but then thought it through. "Right I will," he muttered, shouldering through the crowd and out the door.

The gentleman smiled to a couple of his friends and then took a stool at the bar, the crowd, which had been tense a moment before relaxed and returned to its normal, no one noticing two well-dressed men sliding out the door after the younger man.

Eric watched from the corner, taking a drink from his tea. He was quite happy it was such a good cup. It had been too long since he'd had one that he'd felt like he'd forgotten what it tasted like. Now though, his attention was drawn more to the old man. It reminded him of someone he'd created for one of his writings. This whole faire would prove excellent inspiration for the next novel. So far though, nothing really caught his eye. He looked down at his notebook and scribbled a few notes before going back to work.

Teresa started as someone spoke to her, almost sloshing her mug across her lap. She had been to preoccupied by, other things, to notice she was being addressed.

"I'm sorry, my mind was else where." She patted her brow taking a deep breath then focused on the old man across from her. He seemed a jolly fellow, and his question was innocent enough. "I'm here for my own purposes, but if a little fun can be managed this night, then I am here for that. For tomorrow will be a grumesome day indeed." A mock sneer played at her lips before she sipped at her mug again. "And you? What brings you here, Old Man?"

The older gentleman chuckled, "Brings me here? I live here lass." He smiled at her across the table and was about to say more when he suddenly froze.

"Oh no." he groaned and made his way to his feet.

Following his eyes one noticed that the two well-dressed gentleman who'd followed the young man out were coming back in the door, smiles on their faces as they both focused on a young lady in a barmaid's outfit who was rather unhappily serving the well-dressed man across the room. They made their way across the room to her, and one leaned in close whispering in her ear.

She spun, attempting to hit him with her tray, which he caught, smiling. She let ago and made to run, tears rolling down her face, but the gentleman caught her. "Don't worry young lady, I'll take good care of you." He waved the other two men away again and rose to his feet.

"You all just continue on, no worries." He made his way towards the door, dragging the young lady after him.

The old man too made his way to the door, and blocked it. "Now see here Anthony-" he began, but was cut off.

"Out of the way McMillan. Your daughter's husband was a fool and now she's got some prospects." The gentleman reached up and shoved the old man into the wall, where his head collided with a gas lamp and he fell to the ground.

"Any other problems?" the gentleman asked, looking around.

Used to pub flights, Teresa didin't bat an eye as she watched her new acquaintance hit the wall. The action surprised her, but she was used to that sort of brutality, the very fact she didn't scream spoke too true of what she had become. A lady of breeding would have fainted, dead away, or at the very least put up an almighty up roar and gotten proper compensation for the inconvenience.

If she were to be even more honest, a true lady wouldn't have been in that pub to begin with. She sighed and got to her feet, there wasn't anything she could do about the later so she might as well do some good while she was there. Striding over quickly she knelt next to the old man. "Sir? Sir can you hear me?" She tapped his face, and waited for some sign that he wasn't dead.

(ooc: let me know if the place is supposed to go up in flames, and I'll change what she does.. I just wasn't sure. )

She lifted his wrist and held it counting the rhythmic beats, held her face close to his to feel for breath. With most signs signaling life she carefully pulled but his eye lids, not sure what she was doing, but it seemed the right thing at the moment. Sitting back on her heels she poundered what to do next. Perhaps he had fallen on to something and it was sticking in his back. Gingerly she wrapped her arms over his body, pressing herself against him as she felt his back for protrusions. She felt nothing. Pulling back she pursed her lips and blew angrily through her nose.

There was one more thing she could try. Wrinkling up her nose she leaned forward and kissed the old man on the mouth.

(I'll keep going if no one joins me.)

The old man came to groggily beneath her, hands stirring feebly at first, not enough for her to notice. And then, with a sudden burst of the famous Scottish strength he came roaring upwards, bringing Teresa with him to his feet and almost throwing her to the wall before he realized it was not the gentleman who'd struck him.

"Easy there lass, I'm a married man you know." His eyes found a small puddle of blood on the floor and he frowned, "I suppose the back of my head is a right mess, feels like it at least. Damn those foreigners, running off with my daughter."

He looked around the room again, most of the crowd was making very sure to stay away and not show much interest as the man had so recently left.

"Right lot of mixbreeds you are, not fit for the Scottish names ya bear." He looked at Teresa, "Perhaps you could help me lass, be a doll and run across to the old bakers shop. You'll see it right when you step out, big sign with a bag of flour on it. Ask for Daniel."

Eric continued his observations, noting the old man and his actions with the girl. Something didn't seem right. Perhaps he could do some further investigations. He looked down at his notebook and wrote down a few other observations. Perhaps he could use the man as a character in his book. He certainly had a quality about him. After a moment, he closed it and stood up to investigate further, catching the baker's shop location and name. It was more his stomach that was curious at the moment though. "Excuse me," he said. "They by chance wouldn't happen to have blueberry scones?"