"I'm not sure," Ruby starts, slow and a little cautious as she glances at Emma. "I'm pretty sure taverns didn't smell as much like wet rat last time I was, you know." In a medieval fantasy land with magic and everything going wrong.

Her expression is perplexed, somewhere between a smile and a furrowed brow. "Wet rat and... cake. I'm not really about that combination."

But they've walked a lot, through the snow, and Ruby is tired, and Emma doesn't seem to be so great, either. It'd be one thing if she'd turned up with a bow and arrow, but that'd be just a little bit too convenient. "Maybe - you don't need to rest? I'm not sure if you're ready for ye olde taverns. You might get called a wench, or something. I might too, but, uh. I'm used to it."

Which is to say, she thinks Emma might punch someone.