[center][color=a187be][u][h2].::Malik Rayse::.[/h2]
[h3]The Gargling Drake Inn[/h3][/u][/color][/center]

[hr]

Malik sighed as he shuffled the cards in his hand around, teeth worrying away at the wooden pick clenched between them. Honestly, he'd have preferred his pipe, or a quick cigarette, but the idea of this little jaunt was to avoid drawing attention to himself. In another place, the mild luxury might have drawn some slight awe from his fellow patrons. Here, it was likely to just draw more questions than answers. Or, as was more likely, get him mugged. He'd left his Dragonslayer with Stormeater back at their camp, so he was slightly less sure of his odds in a fight should he end up outnumbered.

He clacked the toothpick once, and then laid down a card on the table. His opponent cursed, which almost made Malik smile- he wasn't a master at Triple Triad, by any stretch. He lost a little more than he won, but when he did win, his spoils tended to sustain him through the next couple of losses. He'd make something of himself in this game, yet. Or maybe he'd just start to cheat. Not here, of course- if they'd mug him for shine, they'd definitely string him up for cheating. Plus, there was a chance, however slight, that the others might hear. Sigurd, especially.

Malik suppressed a fond smile as he thought about his mentor. While their fighting styles were a bit too different for the man to teach him much more than the basics, what he'd learned from the so-called "Dark Dragoon" was more than enough for him to get by on, for now. He'd be taught more, as time went on, and he proved his mettle, they'd said. More about the ways of the darkness. He was a little surprised that their teachings had resonated with him at all. Not out of honor, or doubt in their talents; each of his Dark Knight brothers used their powers in such myriad ways, that he'd found it unlikely that anything they'd try to teach him would stick. Gladly, he'd been wrong.

A clearing throat from across from him snapped him from his reminiscing. His opponent had made another move, as dissatisfied as he seemed with it. Malik bit down on his pick- he had a job to do here. Best not to get distracted. He played another card (eliciting another curse from his opponent- he wasn't very talented at the game) before listening in to the whispers around him, straining his ears to hear a whisper, a rumor, a breath of anything that might interest someone of his... talents.