"I think you're properly armed, from what I saw, but my intentions are all --" Pure is rarely a good description for Auryn's mind. "Respectful."

"Windvane," he laughs. "I don't think there's a good nickname there, no." He follows and runs a hand over the railing of the porch steps. "No, there wasn't one. I built this one from the ground up. Much better than a motel and harder to find."

[OOC: Dammit, Grantaire, not your conversation.]