Chatterbox: Inkwell

It's just after sunset, and clouds are rolling in, obscuring the indigo hues of twilight. You lean out the window, listening to the sounds drifting in from the tavern below. A few raindrops fall on your head. You hear cheering as traveling musicians begin to play a song downstairs, and a group of men begin to sing along in a drinking song. Floorboards creak as someone walks down the hallway outside. 

There is a knock at the door.