Batharyn twisted his head, his gray eyes focusing onto the entrance of the stables. Then he turned his attention back to the small woman standing next to him. [color=ff9900]"Maybe he doesn't need hay spun from gold but I'm sure he won't like hay that is equivalent to rotten dirt."[/color] He paused for a brief but noticeable moment while he considered if he could trust his anonymous customer enough not to forward his words to the tavern's owner. [color=ff9900]"I'd not exclude that this stuff is around here somewhere..."[/color] His head and eyes twitches towards the wall that the actual tavern and the stables had in common and from which he thereby knew that the owner was somewhere behind it.

[color=ff9900]"You'd be surprised about how many taverns I've already seen. Owners change, die, give up or change their mind about how many, if any, auxiliaries they need and how they should look like. You can't stay in one place forever. Sonner or later you'll lack the necessary basis for your work, then you have to go on and hope that it'll regenerate."[/color] Batharyn again smiled gently at her, but internally he had burst in laughter he had to put considerable effort into suppressing. His words were so hilariously ambiguos. He didn't actually flat-out lie to her. He just... held back some vital piece of information he had absolutely no interest in anyone knowin -- except for some colleagues that had managed to gain much of his trust, of course.

[color=ff9900]"I've already been considering leaving this place. It doesn't feel good to me, but currently I'm a bit low on coins..."[/color] Batharyn grinned as if this didn't worry him much. Well as a thief an almost empty coin purse always was an excellent motivation to go on and not only was this tavern led by one hell of a man in terms of being unpleasant, but also was this tavern located in a town which he had found more and more unsuitable for his [i]true[/i] job.

[color=ff9900]"So... what else can I do for you ?"[/color]