It had been one of those crazy nights, but Glenn shouldn?t have been too surprised. Craziness and Carley seemed to go together like a hand and a glove. Glenn had walked straight back to the inn after he had walked her home, but he still ended up getting back to the inn and going to bed way too late, a perfectly fitting end to an odd and exhausting evening. If it wasn?t Carley critiquing his choice of poetry reading, then it was them getting into a staring contest, or having embarrassing personal questions asked of him, or ? well, he wouldn?t think about that at all. And all this before two of the inn?s patrons decided to nearly kill each other in a fight, and two more patrons drew weapons on the combatants to ?discourage? their dispute. There was something all too familiar about the fear that had paralyzed Carley when those guns came out. It was the kind of familiarity that one can only gain by having experienced the same sort of fear. Glenn didn?t know if he?d handled the situation right; truth be told, he was a little nervous too. Even as someone who lived and spent a good deal of time in the inn, he was only able to block out so much of the violence that all too often seemed to flare up in there. Now, finally, the night was over, leaving him tired, frayed, and cold. He would?ve fallen asleep in his cloak, had he not lent it to Carley. He settled for sleeping in his clothes instead.

***

As soon as he heard the knocking on his door, Glenn woke up, groaning and sniffling a little bit. He knew it was late. He knew that he hadn?t gotten enough sleep. However, it wouldn?t do well to ignore the door. After all, Friday was still a weekday, and he may have another customer to add to the list of various clients he had been serving since he posted his advertisement on the bulletin board a week and a half ago. Although on second thought, that knock sounded awful familiar. Like Jarvis? knocks. He?d probably missed breakfast, and Jarvis was bringing it up to him, along with a scolding about not coming down to eat at a normal time.

?I?ll be there in a second, Jarvis,? Glenn shouted to the door. His black t-shirt was rumpled and the right leg on his pants had crept up while he was sleeping, exposing his lower calf. His hair was particularly unkempt, even for him, topped off by several small cowlicks on the top of his head. Glenn rubbed his eyes sleepily as he went to answer the door. In his half-awake state, he completely missed the page?s words.

?You?re not Jarvis,? he said as he opened the door. Then, he leaned out of the doorway into the hall a little bit. He could hear the hustle and bustle of the inn faintly from his room. ?Gods, it?s afternoon already isn?t it? I overslept!? He started clutching his hair, a look of complete and utter panic on his face.

Thank goodness Jarvis hadn't answered the door. Glenn never knew if he would express sympathy, or just simply mock him. Jarvis certainly wouldn't have spent as much time soothing Glenn's panicked mind as this page did. He would have to remember her name. Or appearance, although that might be much more difficult with her plain features and grey sundress. When he finally spoke again, his tone was a bit more apologetic, and a little nasal. It sounded like he might be coming down with a head cold, although there was also a general air of exhaustion about him as well.

?I'm sorry I thought you were someone else. If you'll wait a second?? Glenn walked back into his room, trying as best he could to make himself look somewhat presentable. He adjusted his hair so that it was covering his eyes and ears better, tried to pat down his cowlicks, and spent a few moments attempting to unrumple his shirt before he gave up. Fortunately, there was still one clean white t-shirt sitting on his dresser. He grabbed it and stepped over to his bed, quickly slipping the dirty shirt off and the clean one on, out of sight of the page. ?I don't suppose you know how much it would cost to send the same message to three different people in West End, do you? Or could you do that?? Glenn looked over at the coin purse, sitting lopsidedly on his desk, then shuffled his way over to his steamer trunk. He unlocked it quickly, rummaged through his belongings, and found another pouch with gold coins in it: his savings. Glenn pulled a single coin out of the bag, locked the trunk, then moved to his desk. He tore off the blank half of a sheet of graph paper that had designs on the other portion and neatly scribbled down some addresses and a brief message. When he finally made his way back to the room door, he took the basket and set it down beside him, trying not to wince at being called ?Mr. Blackbridge.? He would wait until the page told him whether or not she could deliver his messages before he gave her a tip.

?I know, I used to live in the West End myself, when I first got here.? Glenn's shoulders slumped a little, and he sighed. This was going to be a little more expensive than he thought. But it had to be done. If he didn't explain to his customers why he hadn't shown up today, he could kiss his payment and any future jobs with them goodbye. He doubled back into the room to his desk, opening his coin purse and counting out some silver coins. He called out behind him as he was doing so.

?Ten silvers still equals a gold, right?? Silver coins, gold, message, and addresses in hand, he went back to the doorway. ?Two gold coins should be enough for two pages. Right?? It seemed like more than enough to him, but the intricacies of RhyDin's currency still confused him frequently. He paused to ponder it for a moment.

Deep in thought, Glenn looked down at the floor and remembered the basket. He sniffled. His nose was stuffed up, but he thought he could smell something coming from the basket. What it was, though, his sickness-altered sense of smell couldn't fully ascertain. ?What's in the basket anyway, and where did it come from?? He couldn't help but be curious. He'd been at the inn for a solid two months now, and in that time, the only people who had bothered him were Yaromir, Jarvis, and customers. No one had sent anything up to his room besides meals...although this smelled suspiciously of a meal as well. Was Jarvis trying to play a trick on him?

Glenn had almost forgotten about the tip! Of course, he was paying through the nose already for the messages being sent to the West End, but one pretty much had to pay a pretty silver if they wanted to get anything done over there. It was a bit out of the way for someone from the inn. He snapped his fingers, shuffled back into the room where his still half-open coin purse was sitting on the desk. A couple more silver coins were pulled, then he returned to the doorway. Two silvers was more than a fair tip, right?

?Here you go,? Glenn said, smiling faintly and running his free hand through his bangs. Sleepy, jade green eyes slid in and out of view as he ruffled his hair. ?Thank you for bringing me this package. Be safe out there.? His last words were spoken idly, almost as an afterthought.

He would wait until the page had left to uncover the basket and see what exactly was inside. Or, more importantly, since the page had revealed it was most likely food, who or where it had come from. Was there some sort of note inside?