[quote=Veira]“You there, Journeyman! You are going to come with me since you aren’t busy. I’ve got some business to take care of at the Prison and I’d prefer to have somebody with me while I’m doing it. Hurry up.”[/quote]
Hans froze mid-query about the relative slant of drainage ditches in the Mid-western Narrows when a tense woman with long, dirty blonde hair wearing red cloth over armor stormed out of the outpost and called out to him out of the blue, picking him out of the crowd like a cuckoo egg. She did it with naught but a single irritated glance after looking over the crowd once and then looking back to him.

After hastily tipping the woman at the market-stall, Hans hurriedly adorned his helmet once more and then looked himself up and down, trying to figure out what had given him away. Without his occasionally thrice-damned distinctive helmet on, there was no way she should have been able to pick him out from-

As he patted himself down, Hans' hand hit the dirtied and battered Journeyman's sigil still pinned to his overcoat, and he swore as he looked at the grimy, partly corroded badge. He had not coated it with enough dirt! Whoever the blonde woman in red was, she had probably been able to [i]just[/i] make out enough of its color and contour to identify him!

[sub][color=D8BFD8]"Traveler fucking damn a son of a harpy..."[/color][/sub] He swore under his breath as he jogged in order to catch up with Veira. Giving her a quick twice-over, he hastily brushed the crusts of filth off of his Journeyman insignia before falling into step with her. He opened his mouth to speak as he turned to look at her, and then stopped, subconsciously thankful that his grotesque helmet obscured his face and saved him from appearing as a star-struck idiot. Something about the way Veira held herself commanded attention. Her face had a sort of light to, a sort of striking grace and firmness to it despite the scars that demanded both respect and obedience. He was left staring at her for a full two seconds before he managed to shake the haze from his eyes, chastising himself for being so easily caught-up by the first striking face he had seen in weeks. Attempting to sound casual, he broached the subject of what the hell they were doing.

[color=D8BFD8]"You mentioned the prison. Are we interrogating someone? Carrying out a proscription? Are we remunerating the guards to aid their blind and deaf veterans-"[/color] His voice briefly caught as he glanced at Veira's scars again. [color=D8BFD8]"-or are we taking a cut from them?"[/color]