[ It was not so long ago that Bilbo shuffled so nervously around Thorin on a constant basis, uneasy to begin with at being so far from his comfortable home. Doubly so under Thorin's direct, stern, disapproving stares, when he bothered to acknowledge the hobbit's presence at all. It has been some time, too, since he realized that he'd been very wrong in his presumptions, but clearly it has not been so for Bilbo.

But he knows now what courage his burglar is capable of, and that in time, so will Bilbo. He will eventually get used to Thorin actually having respect for what he has to say.

Eventually being, perhaps, the key word.

Good enough. Thorin pushes the door fully open and steps into the room without any further hesitation. There are no hidden assassins, orcs, or anything of the like in the room. It's far from luxurious, but there are four individual beds that look comfortable enough, a sturdy-looking wooden table, and a window in the back looking out onto the street. There's also a partition that all but closes off a bathing tub and a sink. Several oil lamps give the room a dim, but sufficient light. ]

This place reminds me of Bree.

[ He drops his things near one of the beds - he hasn't yet had the time to go through exactly what has come with him - and begins to shrug off weapons and outer layers. He pauses before laying Orcrist aside. ]

The last time I was there, I was made aware of the fact that there was a hefty price placed upon my head.