Maybe if he was around people he would feel less sleepy, would have more reason to force himself to stay awake and not drift off. He knew he probably should sleep, especially when he thought he was seeing things - figures, perhaps - but the dreams left him feeling worse. So he headed into the tavern, seeking warmth from the crap weather and something to warm his bones.

Looking across the crowd he picks out the familiar face of Sam, and... something else. He squints, not sure if his mind is playing tricks on him or something else. It looked like Sam was talking to someone - to the thing? He ran a hand through his hair and went to the bar to drab a mug and made his way over.

"Hey, fancy meeting you here," he tried for his usual charm though it came off a bit more hollow, purposefully ignore the presence.