"You sodding nug-licker! Here I thought it was one room and you're living it up in two!"

At Oghren's mock outrage, Kit can only shrug, fighting down the grin quirking up the corners of his mouth. "Well I knew you'd be envious--I wanted to let you down gentle. I'm a nice guy that way."

"Come on. I'll buy you some drinks to celebrate you getting your own little hole to crawl into at night. Definitely more than my sorry backside has."

"I never turn down a drink," Kit answers, chuckling, and then leads the way out of the shack. He doesn't bother locking it behind him--no lock, and, quite frankly, nothing in it to steal just yet.

The rest of the walk to the Hanged Man (because where else would they drink) isn't too remarkable; there's a bit of small talk in there, but Kit's just as glad to meander along in companionable silence while Oghren talks about whatever it is Oghren likes to talk about. Once they get arrive and get squared away at a table, Kit flags down a server for a pitcher of ale.

"So," he says to Oghren while they wait for the drinks, "were you in town visiting Bartab?" Yeah, he remembers that nickname.