Jake checks his email on his phone. Then he sighs. Damn. [i]Hurry, Micah is in town. He's in the Second Chance.[/i] James was a good enough boy, but Jake would happily have throtled the child, if it would change the news. Unfortunately, it wouldn't, and as thus, Jake sent his thanks. The last time he had seen the Trickster Mage, he had managed to get himself banished from three Orc Tribe-Cities in a single night, quite an achievement indeed. In fact, Jake doubted that any mage had more assassins at his neck than this fool, constantly getting in trouble and making enemies. Unfortunately, none of them had managed to put him down, which meant Jake now had the unpleasant task of attempting to ensure he wouldn't send the town into anarchy. This was his home, after all, and he felt to some degree responsible for the populace. Furthermore, such a state of chaos would surely not be beneficial for him in any way.
In a purple shimmer, Jake appeared in the Second Chance, looking around the small inn until he spotted Micah. Getting drunk. Good God. This was going to be an absolute catastrophe, Jake could see that already. Sighing, he appeared on the stool next to Micah, a glass of wine in his hand, although he did not drink. "Micah. It's been a long time. I trust you aren't here to cause any more mischief?" It was more of a formal question than a real enquiry. Jake knew as surely that Micah would cause mischief as that the sun would rise the next morning. Some things in life were just fixed. And Jake had the unpleasant, unfortunate, and wholly unfair duty of attempting to limit the damage. And no amount of cursing the Gods would reverse this terrible twist of events.