Estella sat dourly at an upstairs table in Candlehearth Hall, her green eyes flirting around the beer in front of her, but never settling directly on the dark green bottle. Instead, her eyes gazed ceaselessly around her, from the brown-black archway of the entrance, to each table, scanning the patrons and their food, and each corner, making sure there were no newcomers, or anyone looking in her direction, to the large fireplace of the room, making trips to her beer at various times. Shifting uncomfortably in her chair, her hand betrayed her eyes and went for her beer. Her pale Nord fingers drummed on the glass neck for a moment, making dull thunks on the still-full bottle before the cool drink made it to her mouth a moment later, her eyes finally taking a break from their hopeful searching. The town had failed to offer her any work for a week now, and she was getting tired of lounging in the Hall all day, waiting for someone to approach her with coin. The following morning she'd probably be off, heading to Markarth. They usually had caravans that needed guards, so Estella hoped maybe she'd at least be able to escort someone shipping silver, be doing something for a good week or so before she had to wait around to be hired again. The woman shifted in her seat again as she brushed back some gray hair that had escaped from her similarly thick gray-haired ponytail, unable to get herself comfortable. If she had been wearing her armor she would have been able to lean against the wall behind her instead, but she had left it in her room. The wall's wood was ratty and split, and her clothes were already getting dirty along with being her only set, and she loathed looking raggedy for any potential employers, so the mercenary had to deal with hunching over her drink on the rough wooden bench. Her eyes resumed their touch-and-go game while she waited, hopelessly, for someone to ask if they could hire her.