For a while, the Frosted Ram forgot how to be rowdy and loud.
Teclos just ate in silence and peace, but the entire tavern was staring at his every move.
They failed to conceal their stares miserably, not that he cared at all.
Men glanced at him over the rims of their mugs, giving off a fearful reaction. Women, on the other hand, whispered from the far tables and blushed. The ones who usually acted fearless and were always talking over each other loudly lowered their voices, afraid that speaking too loudly might draw his attention. The northerners who had been laughing and shouting only minutes ago now drank like silent monks, eyes flicking toward the corner table before quickly looking away.
And Selma was the worst of them all.
