Dear Trillium.

Menial, drunken conversation had metastasized, the other patrons of the building having overheard our words. Being asked to leave was not a normal occurrence inside the tavern, but my drunken body and blinded mind did not think of the repercussions that were brought by uttering threats to the owner. I had decided that fighting would be the best option to keep my seat in the warmth, but the local guard had ideas that superseded any and all that I may had been thinking at the time.