[ Warden, thankfully, for once was content with having Elizabeth here. It's watchful black eyes beady with focus, watching the girl's every move. The songbird didn't make its presence too ill-advised, that was... until they were leaving the inn.

It flutters, circling and chirping much to the girl's annoyance as she presses her palm to the door leading out. ]

You're in good company then, friend. It seems we both have friends with bad manners.

[ Let the animas live, damn it. Elizabeth makes sure to bundle her coat and hold tightly to her messenger bag — something she carries and seemingly never finds empty. Art supplies, trinkets, hastily scribbled notebooks... it weighs on her as they exit. ]

They seem to only do that when it's close to midnight... or when their pitcher is empty. It's charming, honestly.

[ Maybe Elizabeth's joined in? Awkwardly? Who knows.

Out to the cold she goes! And around the back to the small worn barn. ]