Wings of Fury 2

Quietly, an older human woman- maybe mid-fifties or so, going by the wrinkles setting into her face- steps into the bar. She wears a rather simple outfit, a smith's apron over a stained undershirt and heavy-duty work pants, with messy salt-and-pepper hair pulled back by a headband and the kind of muscles you only really develop through years of labor and hitting very hot things with hammers. Her golden eyes scan the room and all it's occupants. It wasn't exactly hard to surmise who among them was here for some dragon slaying fun, but she figurs she'd go buy a drink before joining them. And so she does. Sometimes it's just that easy.

Comète approaches the gathered adventurers with a drink in her hand, not visibly armed or armored, and greets them with simply a nod and a smile as she raises her drink to her lips  and listen to the ongoing conversations.