Saffron

Saffron's room, for the most part, remains exactly the same as when she'd been in it last - apart from a few newly acquired trophies (paid for by a portion of the sum her job with Ben Wade had gotten her).

She takes a moment to arrange for some food and wine to be sent up in about an hour or so, then proceeds to make herself comfortable in the sitting area - removing her boots, pulling out the pin that holds the majority of her red curls up and away from her neck, and stretching out on one of the luxuriously stuffed couches.

"Is there anything I can get you two?" she asks, rolling over onto her stomach, her feet dangling in the air as she sizes up the two men.

It doesn't take much coordinating for their paths to cross again - mostly, Saffron thinks, because she's never actually seen him outside of the bar. She quickly makes a mental note to broach that subject when his defenses are lowered.

Her door's been fairly reliable about showing up lately. Saffron chalks that up to being on tentatively good terms with Bar at the moment. Which is why, when she spots Urquhart in the bar, she marches toward him without pause, stopping a few inches shy of his taller frame.

"The door's over there," she announces, spinning on her heel and heading in its direction. Only after opening it does she glance back over her shoulder and wait for him to follow. It'll lead right into her home, draped in lush colors and overlooking a gorgeous ocean view. Come sunset, the colors will be beautiful enough to convince a grown man he's entered heaven.

She makes her way to one of the divans sprawling in the middle of the room, stretching out on it with a contented sigh. She'll watch him take everything in for a moment or two.

"Oh, it's good to be home."

And here she'd thought the night wasn't going to be interesting.

Her room is much of the same as it's always been, though she's taken the time to do a little redecorating. Not only that, but there are a few new additions. Trophies, she likes to call them, or rewards for a job well-done - at least, until she can find someone willing to shell out enough to take it off her hands.

The bottle in her hands - well, she might be willing to give that up for a few.

She nudges the door shut behind them, taking a swig straight from the now-opened bottle before she even hears the sound of it clicking shut.