Sipley smirked at the woman, Bregil was her name, as she withdrew from the cup. The assassin leant over and tapped the mug with a light finger to gain the attention of the other.

“He probably spat into it after the wolf stunt. Seems like something a man like that would do.” Sipley rested her back against the chair she had taken earlier and crossed her leather-clad legs confidently as she continued, “You should be more careful of what you drink. If I had been here to kill you, your lack of concern certainly would have made it that much easier.”

Sipley talked from experience, of course, because once upon a time she had been that careless. She almost downed a whole cup of wolfsbane poison, but at the last minute she vomited it all out. It was a nasty treat and she hunted down the fiend who dare try to off her and made him scream as she scraped away his skin with a knife. After only a few minutes did she end his misery, so it was not all that bad. Licking her lips, Sipley once again checked her surroundings for any traps, suddenly wary after reliving her almost-death. 

It was then that the stupid bard began to play. The music of his harp grated against Sipley’s ear, though it was pleasant, she preferred her silence. Hearing was a good sense to have when an arrow was being aimed at your head. Curling her hand around a knife, she almost ripped it out to kill the irritating pest when, at the split second, decided it would be best not to do it so obviously…or maybe not do it at all. These sorts certainly would not take to it and she had no doubt that Aldred would at least draw his sword on her; Sipley didn’t feel like taking on a whole room of oafs; outnumbered odds have always been an assassins specialty, but such evident means would lead to death. 

“Oi, bard!” She called when he was finished, scowling slightly and scraping her nails against the wooden table. “Knock it off.”