Beck glanced up from his drink as it was handed to him, and he caught the eye of a Nord fellow who had invited him over to their table. It was a nice gesture, of course, so he trudged on over, drink in hand, sliding into the seat across from the two other men.
"Thankyou," He said, taking a long drink. "It's been a long day for me, I'm afraid." He swallowed the liquid in a large gulp, sitting the flagon down on the table momentarily.
"What brings you to Falkreath?" He was about to ask, but Brianna did so for him. He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it.
Shifting in his seat, he had a pretty good inner way to tell if someone was lying. It came with years of dealing with rule breakers.
"I'm surprised your not out by Whiterun's plains, then." He tested her a little bit, to see what she'd do. Whiterun was the best place to hunt, given that the grasslands surrounding it were full of game. Falkreath, however.... "But Falkreath isn't very reliable. I assume you hunt for sport, then?" He raised a brow in question. Large animals were hard to shoot, and even more rare to find around these parts. People have learned the hard way that you can't live off hunting alone here.
It was more likely for hunters to hunt here for a challenge, rather than to live by it. So she was either ambitious for a hunter, or lying.