The inside of the Inn looks pretty ordinary, as far as Inns are concerned. The entire room is lit up with candles, and even magical light in some places. Tables and chairs are laid out neatly, and the bar sits in the back of the room, with empty stools lined up at it. Stairs lead up to the second floor on the left of the bar. There are a few patrons currently sitting at different tables in almost complete silence, but not enough to make the Inn look filled at all. They all glance at you as you come in, then go back to their drinks quietly. A scruffy and unkempt man in his mid 50s tends the bar quietly. He has long black hair and a matching beard that is almost equally as long. He looks up at the group as they come in, and his eyes widen in a mock surprise. "Well now, I don't think I've ever seen people this weird looking walk into my Inn. I don't recognize you as residents of Lond, please come and sit down." He speaks in a deep and rough voice, and he grabs a mug and starts filling it with ale. "My name is Dimitri Kezkov, and welcome to The Fleeting Respite Inn. I would advise you to take the name seriously."