Marcurio could tell from the moment he saw her that he wouldn't be spending another night in this godforsaken inn. He watch from his usual rickety bench against a wall as she plopped into one of the equally rickety barstools. She looked young, even through her apparent exhaustion. Probably to young to be traveling on her own. She carried a Warhammer that looked as if it weighted twice what she did, and some of the dinkiest looking heavy armor the mage had ever seen, even while living in this armpit of a city.
He continued to watch her, somewhat creepily, as she order her supper. When he figured she had made herself someone comfortable, he stood from his stool, hearing the ear-splitting creakiness of the wooden floor below him.
"Well well!" He announced just as she had opened her mouth to shove in a loaf of bread. "Look what the horker dragged in. You look like someone who my service could be of use to. Wha'd'ya say, 500 gold and you'll-"
"Are all the prostitutes around here this pushy?" She interrupted and he sputtered to a stop. "And are they all men?"
He felt his cheeks light up as everyone in the bar started cackling.
"Um," He struggled to regain his composure "y-you seem to misunderstand. I only mean that you may want to consider a traveling partner."
The stranger sipped her mead, but he could tell she was listening.
"The wilds of Skyrim are full of all sorts of nasty things. With a master of the arcane at your side, you'll have nothing to worry about."
She slowly set down her mug and turned to face him. Her green eyes met his brown ones before traveling down his figure and back up. He suddenly felt very self conscious. He too the opportunity to analyze her as she was to him.
The armor was somehow even more rusty looking up close. She had blond hair, just long enough to brush the shoulder of that gross metal. Contrasting her unsightly garb, her face was rather unblemished, although very tired looking. She still looked very young up close, and rather attractive. Much preferable to the crusty dusty rouges he usually paired up with, who thought personal hygiene meant spitting on your hand and rubbing it into the face a bit to lessen the appearance of the weeks worth of filth.
She finally gave a small shrug. "Alright," she dropped a bag of gold on the counter. "You're hired. How quickly do you think you can get me to Windhelm?"
The mage, despite never having been to Windhelm in his life, replied "Well, it's only a day's journey," and heard at least two people behind him scoff.
"What's your name, mage?" Said the pretty traveler.
He picked up the bag of coins from the counter, feeling giddy at the weight of the 500 septims. "Marcurio, from the imperial city, at your service."
"Beo, from... Nowhere important." She paused. "We leave tomorrow, first thing in the morning. Try not to be late." She smiled for the first time in the night showing her white teeth, and extended a hand for him to shake. He shook.
"I look forward to working with you."