[ Bilbo offers nothing beyond a hum, acknowledging but lacking any experience to correlate the comparison. Bree, yes of course, he knows of it, but the furthest destination one of his walking holidays ever took him had been Frogmorton. Wandering, he bypasses the bed stationed next to Thorin's and chooses another, further away, setting his mug on a low-set bedside table before poking curiously at the mattress. Men, can they do nothing correctly? First their ale, now their beds. It's more welcome than a rocky or beaten path, that goes without saying, but suddenly, he sorely misses his bedding of Bag End.
Not that he'll breathe a word of complaint in his current company.
He glances to Thorin then. It's not surprising, yet it still jars his sheltered sensibilities; he hasn't been in Hobbiton in some time, he should start expecting less than polite conversation, especially between comrades in... arms? Hm. Still. A price on his head. That big, white orc had indeed traveled quite the distance to hunt Thorin down, so it's not a surprise, no, but he has to wonder if it's the same or if there's another price for such a thing to circle within the gossip lines of Men. ]
Lucky then, that this is not Bree. [ Not that he feels any safer for it, thank you Thorin, a fact made obvious by the way his gaze slides toward the door. They will be fine. No one gave them so much as a second glance. But he remains standing anyway, awkwardly so, neither shrugging off his coat nor unbuckling his weapon in favor of finding a comfortable perch upon the bed. Someone must play guard while Thorin bathes; Bilbo is an unfitted one, but, well... ]
no subject
Not that he'll breathe a word of complaint in his current company.
He glances to Thorin then. It's not surprising, yet it still jars his sheltered sensibilities; he hasn't been in Hobbiton in some time, he should start expecting less than polite conversation, especially between comrades in... arms? Hm. Still. A price on his head. That big, white orc had indeed traveled quite the distance to hunt Thorin down, so it's not a surprise, no, but he has to wonder if it's the same or if there's another price for such a thing to circle within the gossip lines of Men. ]
Lucky then, that this is not Bree. [ Not that he feels any safer for it, thank you Thorin, a fact made obvious by the way his gaze slides toward the door. They will be fine. No one gave them so much as a second glance. But he remains standing anyway, awkwardly so, neither shrugging off his coat nor unbuckling his weapon in favor of finding a comfortable perch upon the bed. Someone must play guard while Thorin bathes; Bilbo is an unfitted one, but, well... ]