A Little Blonde Boy
A little blonde boy, dressed in rags, found himself in a warm tavern. It smelled, sure, but not as bad as that city. And at least here, he could smell food. Or, at least, the food smelled like food should.
He had been here before, begging for scraps, and he was obliged by the travelers. A cute face was very helpful. But today, he wanted more than food. His self-actualization needed very little to get going, and it needed more than food now.
His green eyes scanned the bar, looking for a particular person. Ah, there.
The boy walked up to a man wearing a red tunic covered in a thick leather coat, a few long scratches here and there. Armor. The most revealing characteristic was the stark white hair of the man. He was currently occupied in a conversation with the female bartender behind the counter.
The boy walked up behind the man and tugged on the bottom of the constable's tunic to get his attention.