He himself had moved out the tavern weeks ago, and into space above the stables, but he's in the tavern most nights anyway. He never learned to do much more cooking than roasting something over a fire, and he likes having company on the nights when the memories keep him from sleeping (which is most nights).

"You did. And I promised a story. Which one would you like?"

He doesn't mind talking about his life. He just needs an idea of where to start.