River grins. "I've got a few centuries in me, I'm not in a rush."

Not pictured, the eccentric tobacco grower in her canon sneaking up on her with a folding chair made of chocolate.

She leads the way into the inn. There's no question of Annabelle paying for the coffee; River made the invitation. While they're waiting the elf rolls her sleeves up; her arms are tightly muscled, and layered with scar-sigils that glow like coals when the firelight hits them.

"...Seems only fair to give you the first shot at curiosity, since I gave you a bit of a shock."