The heavy leather curtain swung open, and a large, red-faced man covered in soot and grease stormed out, brandishing a massive iron ladle. The owner and head cook of the inn glared furiously at the woman.
"Stop giving away my damn profits to every worthless beggar that crawls through that door!" he screamed, his voice drawing chuckles from several nearby patrons. "You're running my business into the ground! If you want to play the saint, pay for his meal out of your own wages, because I'm not running a charity house for the broken!"
Ethan lowered his head, staring at the floor to hide the glint that momentarily flashed across his amethyst eyes. He needed to play the part of the helpless victim perfectly, but inside, his core was already logging every face in the room.
