While not quite out of his element, Keystone had to admit that a man with a more developed sense of propriety would be embarrassed by the conversation, as presented in a very matter-of-factly manner by a woman of obvious confidence. His words from moments ago, phrased partially for the purposes of making sure he wasn't stepping on anybody's toes, had failed to take into consideration his own observations of the dynamic of the household. 

Also in hindsight, his own concerns were phrased awkwardly. It was a weakness of his, declaring intent without any hope of subtlety. Attempting subtlety only led to confusion. 

While most of his concerns were not answered in the reply that followed, enough were that he felt a little stupid. That, and reassured. In the future, Keystone promised himself that he'd be more direct with Saran than he was generally with other ladyfolk; his own upbringing and experience tended to work against him in this regard. 

In his mind, Saran seemed to be evading or holding something back. It was her right to do so; Keystone had several things about himself he'd rather not declare to his new friends, at least not right away. Things like, "A former(?) prostitute looks after my home while I'm away!" or "Hey guys, I slammed my father's skull into a bartop until he expired messily!" weren't polite topics of conversation from the get-go. There were odd and dark things in his history. Everyone had secrets, Saran was no exception. 

She was also very persuasive. Keystone made sure her needs were well tended to before his own. 

***

Keystone awoke early. He was, by nature, an early riser; force of habit after years of irregular guard shifts and punishing training schedules. He detangled from the limbs akimbo position in which he found himself, made ample use of the facilities available to him in the low dwelling, and tiptoed into the dining area to retrieve his belongings. 

The sun had not yet crested the horizon, but there was just enough cold morning light for Keystone to see by. It was strange, he recalled that his night vision wasn't always this sharp. Shrugging the thought off as inconsequential, located his money and counted out another hundred platinum coins. He scrounged up a scrap of paper from his pack, penned a hasty note, and left it on the table. As quietly as he could, Keystone set half of his recovered coins upon it like an opulent paperweight. The note read:

[i]Master Rocksteady,

Gone for breakfast for everyone. Thanks for hospitality. Please use money for order, best stuff you can find. If you need more, 50 in top of pack. Trust you, take what you need. 

Keystone [/i]

As he placed the remaining 50 coins in his traveler's pack, a jolt of pain raced across his back and down his arm. Still not at his best since his fight with Glith, he nonetheless decided to strain himself with last night's more entertaining activities. He gave special consideration to the idea of taking it easy today, limiting himself to light actions and cooking. Maintenance exercise would have to wait for tomorrow. At least he could stand straight and move unaided, a brisk morning walk would have to suffice. 

He dressed in monk's clothing and grabbed his gold coins, leaving most all of his personal belongings in the humble home, and exited into the young morning. 

In his experience, all city merchant hubs, large and small, had a few things in common. The early morning belonged to street sweepers, particularly inebriated people stumbling home, and Practitioners of the Baking Arts. It was the latter that drew his attention. They weren't difficult to find, the smell of dough rising and sugar caramelizing was distinctive in the relatively still air. His anticipation for breakfast pastry did not overrule his good sense, however. Keystone kept a low profile and stayed out of the way of what little foot traffic the market presented. 

In the end, he wound up purchasing more than probably should have. A gold coin's worth of fresh honey-bread and fruit pastry, tarts and the like, followed by another for packaged black tea. It seemed no matter where he went in his travels, everyone drank tea. Little constants like this kept him centered. 

Keystone returned to the Rocksteady residence quietly, set out breakfast, and prepared a kettle of strong, black tea.