Gharlyc was sitting in a dark corner, sipping his watered down ale and observing the people coming into the the Bawdy Dog.  This shit hole of a tavern was a cherished place in his memories and almost made him feel safe.  Almost.

Earlier, Gharlyc had walked in and ordered his drink, the hood of his cloak hiding his face so Busker didn't recognize him, and sat away from the other patrons to get a good look at the door to make sure no one had followed him.  The drow looked dangerous with barely contained killing intent (better stay away from her...), but didn't seem to have any relation to the nasty business that Gharlyc was running away from.  
As soon as things quiet down a bit and Busker wasn't attending to anyone, Gharlyc would approach him and see if old friendships were still worth anything anymore.