Richard examined his hand, looking for any signs of red, any skin tougher than usual, any sign that the dragon soul was wearing off. It wasn't that it'd been a while since he'd had one - indeed, his last conquest couldn't have been mroe than a few days ago. However, he couldn't afford to be any less vigilant. The witch's curse wouldn't let him. He was in no hurry to hide his hand, though. The tavern he was in was known for its unsavoury crowd. Nobody was unwelcome, as long as they didn't give anybody any trouble. Nobody bothered him, and that's how he wanted it. Bar, of course, the person who was supposed to be his guardian. he didn't know how they had gotten to such a position, but he wasn't complaining. He was loose cannon, with the fuse lit. He was a liability - he knew as well as the next person that he needed someone to keep him in check. Whether it was by force or with words, he needed someone to stop him from going over the edge. He only hoped that this person was actually able to stop him - a person that regularly tussled with dragons. It was obvious that he wasn't to be taken lightly.