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Maroon stopped in front of room 214, looking up and down the hallway. He had the feeling that he was being watched. He saw nothing though, for he even looked up on the walls and ceiling and down on the ground, so turned and jiggled the key into the lock. After he heard the resound click, he pushed into his room and closed up, locking the door again.
"Humph... 'course, what can I expect?" He sighed.
The room was quaint, sparingly decorated. It had the necessities, nothing too fancy. A bed, which Maroon quickly deposited his napsack onto, a dresser where he tossed the room key, next to a water basin with a pitcher of water in it. He yawned, sitting down on the bed as he pulled off his boots.
He began murmuring to himself as he slipped out of his duster, careful not to cut the leather on his sword, "Maybe I'll have better luck tomorrow. More people around in the daytime, I'm sure."
He set the sword next to the bed, near the pillow. The shotgun went next to it, also in easy reach. His pistol was slipped up underneath his pillow. He grunted, smiling to all the precautionary steps he takes before getting comfortable to sleep. Once he was sure no one would be visiting him this late at night, he stood back up, and unbuttoned his pants. He left them on, though, and sat back down with another yawn.

Bankes stretched, arching his back till it popped. Then he exhaled loudly and hopped back, grabbing his napsack as he went. He propped up the pillow and leaned against it, pulling open the bag.
"Le's see here..." He murmured, digging through it.
He pulled out his wallet, flipping it open to see how much money he had left for this trip. His jobs usually paid well, but lately things have been slow. His tasks had dwindled down to menial things, running errands for an elderly couple. Things that weren't worth his time. He bit back a growl at the few bills left crisp in his wallet. The folded leather wallet was tossed back into the sack.
Maroon dug around some more, frowned, then shifted to dig in the pockets of his duster. With a small 'aha!', he produced a small notepad from a pocket. He flipped through, stopping on one of the back pages.
"Okay... So... I'm lookin fer a... a 'Scroll of...'" He frowned at the paper, mouthing the word slowly, "'Na.. Nakro... Nakranim?' Th' crap's that...?"
He groaned, rolling his eyes. At the bottom of the note page was scrawled in neat little letters, 'Pick up Troll's Blood'. He shut the notepad and tossed it back onto his duster.
"Old hag.. I ain't riskin my neck for some troll's blood..." He grumbled, crossing his arms. He crossed his legs at the ankles and glared at his socked toes. "This is a waste of time. A pointless assignment. I'll be damned if there's even a 'Scroll of Nakranim', anyway..."
His eyes were half-lidded, though they still trailed around the room, making sure he didn't have any unwanted visitors. It wasn't long before they drifted shut, though. He was tired; the trek to this pitiful excuse of a town took a lot out of him.

The man let out a uncomfortable grunt, a hand swatting up at his neck. His eyes flew open and he sat up quickly, grabbing his sword. He'd felt something crawling up on him, and had even cracked his eyes open a little to see what it was. What could he say? He was a light sleeper. Had to be; too many people have tried to kill him on one job or another. The sword tip swung close to the edge of the bed, scraping against the floor.
"Rat... Come out or I'll hunt you out."
For emphasis, the hammer of the pistol clicked back soundly. Bankes turned, swinging his feet onto the floor and stood up, looking around, pistol and sword in hand. He searched every nook, the base of the wall, cracks something a tiny creature could slip through. He took a few steps away from the bed, then stopped. He turned around, and knelt down, peering under the bed.
"Bingo." he snarled, though his expression began to relax.
He couldn't explain the sensation, except for feeling like something warm and soothing was coursing through him. Almost like hot cocoa on a frigid evening. He shook his head quickly, and reached out to grab Tanka.

"Gah! Damn rodent!" Maroon snarled.
Bitten, twice! He stood up as quickly as he could, firing the pistol once at his bed, where the rat was. He hadn't expected the creature to leap up at him. 'I guess he didn't think I'd stand up that fast.' he thought bitterly.
He let his sword fall against the side of the bed just as Tanka collided with his chest, and he caught the rat as he fell. He was sure to hold his arms and legs still this time. At least he was prepared. Another bite wouldn't make him drop him.
"Alright now, ya little vermin." The man growled, bringing Tanka up to eye level. "What're you doin' in my room, and why do you keep biting me? Who hired you?"
He gave the little rat a shake, trying to intimidate the small creature into talking.