"You can all go fuck yourselves," Rook promptly declared when the bag was taken off. Because his totem, the hanger around his neck, hadn't twitched at all when they were ambushed on their way to the pub, Rook had quickly realized that he wasn't in any danger. No reason to spoil whatever was happening, though, so he'd kept his mouth shut and played along. Raising his jug of ale to the cheering mercenaries, he drained it in one go, matching Ramzi for quantity (though not speed; that trick the old man could do where he just opened his throat kept eluding Rook). He smiled and let a barmaid fill his drink again.

The Scarlet Raven arrived much more recently than most of the other White Guard here. Rook didn't have any new friends yet, though he got along well enough with most people. His eyes scanned the pub, looking for other members of his chapter, and he found them grinning at him from a corner of the pub. Boisterously shoving people aside and yelling mock excuse-me's, Rook made his way to them and clasped hands with them in turn, the traditional Scarlet Raven greeting. 

"Should be an easy run," Gottfried said, a tall, blond fellow from some northern region whose name escaped Rook. "Must be some kind of insult that they chose you." 

Rook shrugged and smiled wearily. "Might be nice, actually, doing nothing for a change," he said dryly, "compared to the boatload of action we've seen here so far." The other Scarlet Ravens laughed, though most of it was mirthless. The greyskins had already been mostly driven back when the Scarlet Ravens arrived in Belencrest. So far, the chapter hadn't seen much combat at all, which suited them poorly. The Scarlet Ravens that liked sitting back, doing fuck all while they extorted their clients as much as they could, had been eliminated in Rook's purge a little over a year ago. 

Finishing his second drink, Rook spotted several other members of the expedition party heading outside. Rook parted with his fellow Scarlet Ravens with a few short, but heartfelt goodbyes, and stepped outside into the fresh night air. 

He took a few seconds to look the motley bunch over. He'd exited the pub only a few feet behind Marcel, who took a fritter and stated his dislike for parties. [i]Reminder to steer clear of him,[/i] Rook thought to himself, but he followed the man's example anyway and took one of the fritters, tipping his head in appreciation. One member of the group in particular caught his attention, the young woman with the notebook. [i]Now there's a pretty lady.[/i] 

Rook decided not to say anything, letting the conversation between his newfound travelling buddies develop among itself. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, his eyes mostly on Adele.