Jess tilts his head with lip tucked between his teeth in a look that says kind of, yeah. 'Obvious' is one word for it. 'Predictable' is another. The trickle of new faces doesn't seem like it's going to stop anytime soon, not when the ring masters who run this circus keep bringing people here like it's going out of style, and almost all of said new faces find their way to the inn eventually.

The foot traffic is part of the reason Jess still lives here; rooming in the hub of the community is advantageous for keeping up with the latest news. And for sniffing out the latest additions, case in point.

Rising from his seat, he opts to go the full nine yards in greeting the older man, hand out to shake. "Jess Brightwell, sir," he says. The sir is more for Bruce's sake than his own. Some basic manners might wash this nightmare down a little easier. "I stay here. If you're taking a room, I expect we'll be seeing plenty of each other."