[center][h3]That’s My Spot[/h3]
[i]by Dervish and Greenie[/i][/center]
[hr]
[i]10th of Midyear, Early Morning, Gilane Docks[/i]

The sun had barely peeked over the horizon, but to those waiting it meant the long night had finally passed and they were finally free to venture forth with their day. For the once pirate and now barmaid named Sirine, it meant she was finally off duty. It meant she could finally leave the confines of the cramped and stale smelling tavern and breath in some fresh morning air. Pushing a couple of rebellious locks of hair away from her face, the Imperial Redguard breathed in deeply, closing her eyes as she took in the scent of the city. Dusty roads and sand remained, but at least it was free from the scent of terrible hygiene.

Still, this wasn’t where she wanted to be anyway. Carefully securing her rucksack over her shoulder, she stuffed one hand in her pocket while the other held onto a bottle of wine that seemed a little too full by regular standards. Taking another deep breath of fresher air, the Imperial Redguard started on her way down the street, her steps deliberate and purposeful, as if she knew exactly where she was headed. Which she did, for that matter. It was her daily habit after leaving the tavern in the morning to make her way to the docks, sit down near the water and while away a couple of hours as she contemplated the waves crashing against the shore. It was a time of peace and sorrow, when she could finally be herself without having to worry about others seeing and assuming things. 

The scent of the salty seawater had already greeted her halfway to her usual resting place by the docks, but it was never the aroma that truly made her feel at home. It was the sound of waves even before she could see them that had her quicken her step, a soft smile lingering on her lips. It was the sound of home…

There was somebody in her home. Sirine found herself a little surprised to see somebody else here so early in the morning- normally it was just her. It was a little disconcerting, truth be told, but there were a myriad of reasons why someone would be here. There was no need to act as if something was amiss. From what she could see, it was no Redguard or Dwemer, and a little more scrutinizing has her realize it was a khajiit; there was no mistaking those ears.

“That’s my spot,” she commented, words rather mild as she made her way over, dark eyes lingering over the blood spatters. "And now it's bloody..." That last bit was more to herself. She didn't seem particularly upset, just a little curious.

Zaveed’s eyes opened slowly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and adjusting to the new morning daylight. He was being looked down upon by some Redguard-looking woman that looked vaguely familiar. He groaned, the aches and pains of his many wounds still throbbing despite being healed, and he looked this newcomer up and down studiously. “Yes, that tends to happen when you pick a spot to die and end up disappointed.” he croaked, his throat feeling incredibly dry. He coughed, relieved that blood didn’t erupt like it had been. His second chance at life wasn’t off to a great start.

“Don’t I know you?” he asked suddenly. “Tavern girl? [I]Scorpion’s Song[/I]? I admit I am not as presentable as I would like, but I would like to imagine I leave quite the impression on my better days.”

"Perhaps," was Sirine's reply, casting a glance at the man. It was hardly a surprise if he recognized her from the tavern as that [i]was[/i] where she spent most of her nights. "I don't recall seeing you there myself, but that could very well be due to being preoccupied with other... affairs." Giving the khajiit man a placid smile before settling down cross legged, she set to pulling the cork out of her bottle.

"You sound terrible," she commented dryly. "Now that you've been cheated of death, how about not sounding like you're still sitting with a leg in the grave?" Cork now out of the bottle's mouth, she took a gulp of the liquid before offering the man the bottle. It wasn't actually wine though- the bottle was merely a holder of water now.

Gratefully and labourously, he reached over to take the offered bottle. Expecting liquor, he nearly recoiled at the bland and unexpected taste of water before realizing that’s what it was. Drinking deeply for several gulps and feeling like the drought ridden fields that were his throat had finally seen rain, he sighed appreciatively, running his tongue across his teeth and gums. “Many thanks, my dear. Is this more to your liking?” He asked with an easy going smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Raising an eyebrow for a split second, Sirine's mouth lifted in a smirk. "Yes, that is much better, my ears don't feel assaulted anymore. As for my presence-" She looked to the water and motioned at it with a nod "-this is my spot. I come here on a daily basis; frankly I was surprised to find anybody here so soon after sunrise." Glancing back at the khajiit man, her eyes trailed over the blood stains. "Do you normally find yourself dying around docks, or was this perhaps a once in a lifetime goal?" 

“An unexpected detour, I’m afraid. Ran into an overzealous admirer of mine and things might have gotten a tad carried away.” He replied, trying to sit up a bit better; his back was getting sore, and he was pleased to find he could still move decently well. “I was looking for someone important to me, but you know how the city is these days; interesting things lurk in dark alleyways. You seem oddly possessive over a bundle of nets; is it that you were hoping to catch a man here?” he grinned cheekily, feeling much more revitalized after the water, which he drank from again.

"Of course, I'm sure a man with your charm and wit has to spend a lot of time ducking into alleyways." Her common sense and sharp eyes knew he was hardly telling the truth, though part of what he said rung familiar to her, enough that she looked a little closer at the khajiit, if just for a moment. [i]Someone important you say...[/i]

But for now she pushed that thought to the side, focusing on his cheeky remark with yet another raised eyebrow. "If I am, would you consider yourself caught?" Without waiting for a reply, she reached out and rested a hand on the netting closest to her. "Best be careful, I know very well how to use these." She tugged at it twice before letting go, returning her hand to her lap. 

He regarded her with amusement and a sly grin. “I would be disappointed if you didn’t. And it would appear if it is good enough for fish and crustacean alike, it seems to be good enough for a Khajiit.” he said, wrapping his fingers through the rope, a frown crossing his face as he remembered his ship and his crew, lost to the waves and the Dwemer alike. What was he doing, throwing his lot in with them? His words he threw at Sevari, many times, came to mind; [I]You always have a choice.[/I]

“I know this may be quite sudden in our newfound relationship, my dear, but could I trouble you to help bring me somewhere where I could wash up and get a change of clothing? I’m used to being showered in blood that belongs to anyone but myself, and I am not enthused at looking like a homeless cat again.” Zaveed admitted, his eyes meeting hers.

Sirine met his eyes with her own before looking the man over yet again. Homeless cat seemed almost a generous term for him in her opinion, and she could certainly sympathize with the need of not wishing to look like someone had just dragged him of the gutter- she just wasn't sure if she should.

[i]Well, in his current state, there isn't much he can do...[/i] Letting out breath, she gave the khajiit man a nod and held out her hand in an offer to help him stand. "It isn't much, but I can show you the way to the tavern. The employees have their own bathing area in the back, as you can imagine. I may even be able to procure something less… decorated for you to wear. First though, a name would be nice. I would rather not have to keep calling you 'the khajiit man'."

Taking her hand, Zaveed pulled himself up to his feet with a pained grunt. “Zaveed of Senchal, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” the Khajiit replied, stretching with yawn before limping over to where his dagger still remained from the night before after Raelynn tossed it from him. It was still covered with his blood, and he offered a disdainful cluck of his tongue. “That won’t be good for the finish. Such mistreatment of a fine blade.” he said, wiping it off on his trousers and examining it, thinking it would wash off with a bit of solvents. Regardless, he slid the dagger back into its sheath at his back. “As much as I’d love to call you beautiful, my dear, I’m afraid I should also like a name. I seem to be having a run of good fortune lately, and I would like to keep it that way.”

"Sirine," she offered in reply as she looked away from the dagger he had picked up, her interest a little piqued as she herself carried a dagger on her person, though for the time being it was hidden. "Or Siri. Whatever is easiest to say, I don't mind. Beautiful is fine as well, but only if you pay me first." She let that out so easily that it was hard to tell whether she was joking or serious. 

Pulling a coin from his armour, he placed it gently into her hand. “Beautiful Sirine it is, then.” he grinned with a wink, gesturing for her to lead the way.

As she started walking, she decided to keep the conversation flowing. Banter was a useful source of information after all. "Zaveed of Senchel," she repeated. "Your accent differs from the other khajiit I have met though- am I right in assuming you haven't been to Elsweyr in a while?"

“You are very astute of hearing, but that would not necessarily be correct. It is my home base out of Senchal, but I spent much of my time at sea and different ports with a diverse crew of sailors, I imagine it has worn off on me in ways I do not readily acknowledge.” he replied, keeping pace easily despite his limp, his hands resting on his axes. “In Pelletine, it is less common for Khajiit to use third-person manners of self address due to being more developed and cosmopolitan than the North. The Khajiit of Anequina, the ones that speak often of warm sands, are likely the ones that you are accustomed to. They tend to be more spiritual than their brothers to the South, and they produce a number of nomads. Perhaps it would help to think of it in a similar light as Nibenese to Colovians, Stronghold Orcs to city Orcs, Green Pact Bosmer verses those who live outside of Valenwood. Same skin, different souls.”

Unknowingly flipping the coin in her hand, Sirine listened to Zaveed as she lead the way. It was interesting to be sure, and enlightening as well. She had never sailed that side of Tamriel even when she was working with her father and brothers, so the little she did know of the cat people was from former shipmates. "Yes, you're quite right," she agreed with a small smile. "I've heard about warm sands more than I can remember.

"So a sailor..." she commented after a small pause, more to herself than Zaveed, though she did spare a glance at the khajiit man. With that knowledge in mind, she could certainly see him on a ship. It did beg the question of why he was here of all places, but Sirine knew better than to ask that of a stranger she just met. There was one thing she [i]could[/i] very much relate to with this meager knowledge, however.

"I can see why you would wish to come here even on the brink of death." She looked out at the distancing waves before turning back to continue leading the way. The yearning she felt to return to the sea was never really gone, simply quelled with more important tasks.

Zaveed smiled sadly, looking out to the gentle rolling of waves. It truly was a beautiful day. “Being out at sea was the one place I felt at home, like the laws of the lands and the restrictions that are shackled to you no longer apply. I was a king aboard my own vessel, my sailors were my retainers. I thought if my body had to be in agony, my heart and soul should be at peace near such a place. So much the better I am still here, so I may actually find myself aboard my own ship once more, to feel the shifting of the planks beneath my feet, that sudden shudder when the sails catch a strong wind. I miss the salt, the colourful waves that shine like gemstones. It’s been a few weeks, and already I am itching to get off of dry land and return where I belong.” he chuckled, feeling somewhat sheepish for waxing nostalgic with a stranger. “I must apologize for droning on; it must be a tale you’ve heard from far too many drunken tongues. Normally I’m not so… what’s the word… hyperbolic, wistful? Surviving things you should not have tend to bring out the world in ways you never dreamed of, it is like seeing things with new eyes.”

"Staring into the mouth of death does do wonders for the soul," Sirine agreed, her voice light even if her thoughts were much more somber than his seemed to be. "And yes, I've heard drunken tales of the sort, but it isn't an unpleasant one... and I very much doubt you are drunk- I washed that bottle more than enough times before filling it with water." 

She gave the khajiit an easy smile. "So no need to apologize. The feelings you're describing are well known to me- I spent most of my life out there as well. In fact, I was told I was born at see. The crashing of waves against wood was the lullabies I used to sleep to as a child." With that said, she decided she might as well take a chance and ask the question flitting through her mind. "Why would you chose to come here of all places? The Dwemer certainly haven't made the seafaring life easy."

“Ah, so you do understand.” Zaveed smiled pleasantly, appraising Sirine thoughtfully. “And intoxicated, certainly not, except for perhaps blood loss. On the upside, less blood means it will take less wine for me to be put into an agreeable temperament.” he grinned before shaking his head at her further inquiry. “It is a long tale that I’d rather not get into with a stranger, as lovely and generous as they may be. Suffice to say, I lost everything in a storm, was not familiar with the seas and hit a hidden reef that stranded me here under the Dwemer’s all too thoughtful care. There are worse places to end up, to be fair, and certainly with worse company than what I am enjoying at the moment.”

Sirine allowed herself a chuckle and nodded in response to Zaveed. "That's fair," she agreed before continuing with a smirk, "it's good to see you haven't lost so much blood that your wits have left you as well." She looked ahead at the path, shading her eyes a little as the sunlight streamed between the roofs of the buildings lining the street. "And I suppose it's fair to say there are worse places than Gilane." She didn't hate the place, in fact she quite liked her father's home. It was the others who made it their home that caused her to flee. Until now.

"Over there," she called out, quickening her step as she pointed ahead at a medium sized building that stood a little apart from the rest. "Have you been here before?"

He looked over to the building, forgetting the name of it as he tried to remember. “Can’t say it was one of my usual spots, but I think I’ve been here before. Cheap drinks and crap food, as I recall.” he glanced over at Sirine. “I hope you aren’t the cook.”

It seemed like an out of the blue comment and it caught Sirine off guard; a spontaneous laugh left her before she could stop herself. "No, that isn't me, though I'll be sure to relay your message to the cook." She allowed herself to give him a wink before shaking her head. "This place is terrible and you'd be better off not eating here. Take it as sound advice- there is a reason I don't eat here, and you shouldn't be dancing so close to death having just evaded it." 

She paused at the front door for a moment before shrugging and continuing onward to the side of the building instead. "No need to head through the tavern itself," she muttered. She actually didn't want to be seen by the owner, knowing he would most probably see this as a chance to work her overtime, but there was no need to mention that to Zaveed. The side door wasn't too far away, set one step high in the wall, clearly having seen better days. Reaching in her pocket, Sirine pulled out a single key and unlocked the door after a few tries. A slight frown creased her forehead as she mentally cursed Jamir, the owner, for not actually fixing things he said he would; the moment passed and she nudged the door open with her boot.

"In here." She stepped up and inside before moving to the side for the khajiit. The scent of alcohol, perfume and sweat permeated the dank hallway that lead further into the building. A door to the right would lead to what was considered the baths. "I'm fairly certain most are still resting after a busy night, so you shouldn't have any interruptions. I'll find you something to wear- you continue through that door there." She pointed it out for his convenience.

Smiling and offering a bow, Zaveed took Sirine’s hand and kissed it gently on her knuckles. “You have my thanks.” he said, walking down to the baths, a series of somewhat dirty stone basins that were by a large cauldron of heated water. Using a bucket to fill one of the tubs and draw the curtains, Zaveed disrobed and neatly folded his tattered clothing and armour in separate piles, while keeping his weapons close to him, pistol on a shelf just above where his head would be. Finding bland smelling soaps and oils, he climbed in and felt the warm water relieve his brutalized body, letting out an almost inaudible gasp as the hot water burned his sores, but quickly faded as he relaxed.  

Sirine blinked a little before nodding in response to the khajiit's thanks. Clearly a charmer, she was sure his words and actions had worked on many women before. Perhaps even she would have been caught if she were younger. Right now though, she simply allowed herself a silent laugh as she headed for the sleeping quarters instead. Ignoring the door that lead to her shared room, she continued further until she came to the last door in the hallway. Pursing her lips momentarily, she pushed it open the slightest bit and peeked inside.

Sleeping inside with no care in the world and one of his barmaids by his side was the owner. Sirine couldn't keep from making a face- he was the last person she would want to lay with- but she was happy to see he was there and clearly spent; at least that meant she wouldn't have to worry about anyone else sneaking into the room. Keeping her footsteps light, she made her way to his dresser and carefully pulled at the top drawer. It was locked. Sirine kept that in mind for the future before pulling at the second one; this slid open easily enough, revealing quite a few pairs of clothing. She grabbed the top pair and hastily crept back out of the room. 

Once outside, she looked over her plundered goods. In hindsight, it might have been better to pick something that was a little plainer- the tunic was a rusty orange and the trousers that accompanied it were a light beige- but Sirine refused to return to that room. Zaveed would have to make do with these, and she dared say he'd probably look better in them than their current owner. Without any further delay, the Imperial Redguard headed to the baths. 

Cautiously she peeked inside; when she saw the curtains were drawn she stepped inside, clearing her throat. "I have clothes for you, I'll leave them out here." 

The Khajiit smiled gesturing for her to leave them next to his current clothing. “I appreciate it.” he said sincerely, not at all abashed at his indecent exposure. He ran some water over his face and over his mane, appreciating the cleansing water. He leaned back against the curvature of the tub, his arms draped over the side. “You’ve been far kinder to me than you’ve had any right to. After recent experiences, it’s… unexpected, but pleasant. Tell me, Sirine, how do you feel about the occupation, the Dwemer?” he asked conversationally, rubbing the grime out of his hands.

"What, are you telling me that I did something no other kind soul would have?" Sirine let a hint of sarcasm sound in her voice, though she followed it almost immediately with a smile, setting the clothes down next to where his old ones were, though she did make sure the area she set them was relatively dry and clean. And then, even if it was merely for a second, she visibly stiffened at the question thrown her way. To be fair, she had been the one to bring up the subject earlier so she couldn't fault him, but it wasn't something she had expected to be asked. 

"Well, it hasn't been easy," she started, forcing her mind to remain focused and not veer in an emotional direction. She had helped him, yes, but that hardly meant she trusted the fellow. "People have been living here in freedom for many years. To suddenly find oneself restricted by people who by all rights are supposed to be dead is quite a lot to swallow." And even as she said that, she knew that wasn't even the reason she hated them. The dwemer could live wherever they wished for all she cared- the sea gave her all the freedom she needed. At least… until they took [I]him[/I].

“And you?” she decided to ask, head tilted to the side in a show of exaggerated curiosity. "It's only fair that I receive an answer as well."

Zaveed stared up at the ceiling above. “In my effects, you’ll find a badge belonging to the Ministry of Order. I am one of the Dwemer’s foreign field agents charged with keeping this peace they are imposing. From your hesitation to tell me, you know the consequences of saying the wrong thing to the wrong people, but fret not; you’ve nothing to fear from me. I was forced into this position by the same elves to gave me the rather fetching choice of serving them or dying in a fighting pit. I hunt down terrorists for them, and recently, that’s become a rather complicated endeavor for me.” He looked down at her, his face a mask. “And to answer your question, no, very few people I’ve met in my life have done for me what you have, as simple and obvious as it may seem. One of these terrorists… I’m alive because of her. I am uncertain how to proceed.” he admitted. 

Her hand twitched. She wanted to stay calm and only habit was forcing her to keep a straight face. Inside her mind was another story, a turmoil as the rebellious side of her urged her to pull her dagger from its sheath and strike him down. 

[i]Stop. He's not the one.[/i] But her anger remained. She helped an ally of the dwemer.

Her eyes remained on the khajiit for a good moment. "Well, all that blood certainly makes sense now." She took a couple of steps closer to the tub, eyes narrowing as she closed in on him. "I have nothing to fear from you, you say? I've heard that sort of lie many times so you'll have to forgive me if I don't immediately trust you're telling me the truth. Then again, I haven't been completely honest myself." She stopped by the side of the tub, grabbing the edge with both hands as she stared at Zaveed. "My thoughts on the dwemer? I hate them. They took someone from me, someone important, irreplaceable. The only thing I fear is that they won't pay for what I lost."

And then just as quickly she stepped back. [i]What folly[/i]. She had let her emotions have the better of her after all. [i]Calm yourself down[/i]. She took another step back, slowly breathing in and out, reminding herself that she was the one in control here. [i]No one else[/i]

"I think it's clear to me how you should proceed." Her voice no longer held the heat from before. "You mentioned you were looking for someone important? That should be your focus."

“And it is. My sister, she’s missing somewhere in this city. She was a part of the Dominion envoy that was attacked, and I was trying to find her when I ran into… it doesn’t matter at this point.” Zaveed said, letting the woman process these emotions. He grabbed Sirine’s wrist, although not roughly. “I hate them too, you know. I’ve been forced into a life that has torn me in many directions, and my brother as well. Who did they take from you? What would you do to pay them back?” he asked quietly.

Sirine looked at the hand on her wrist, her first instinct urging her to pull away, but she squashed that almost instantly. She had already broken her mask once today and she had no desire to show any more vulnerability. 

A humorless laughed escaped her as she shook her head. "My brother. We would have left, at night, without a trace. Gilane was never a haven for us, it was always the sea." Another laugh left her. "The dwemer? I wouldn't have given a fuck about them, about the Dominion, about anyone. But they touched him..." Her voice trailed a moment and she shook her head. "If I knew what I could do, I would have done it already, Zaveed of Senchal. But-" She spread out her hands. "I am but a tavern girl who serves drinks and turns tricks."

“Do you know who did it? The ones responsible for taking your brother from you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he started at the Redguard woman. “The way you carry yourself, you are more than just a tavern girl, aren’t you?”

"How could I possibly know who took him?" Sirine shook her head. "If I did, then that would be so much simpler, wouldn't it? I wouldn't be in this conundrum. I would have simply taken care of those people myself." She was tempted to ignore his last question, but the look in his eyes was enough to tell her that was no longer a choice, not with all she had revealed. "At the moment, this [i]is[/i] all I am. But you are right... before I was forced here, I had my own ship, my own crew." It was hard to keep the wistfulness from her voice. “I was what people would call a pirate.”

Zaveed rose from the tub, unperturbed or uncaring about his undress in the state of finer company, and he toweled himself off, the three nasty wounds on his chest and through his back very much visible. “I am Captain Greywake, privateer of the Aldmeri Dominion, and for over a month now I have been little more than a slave to the Dwemer. I have done what they asked of me, as brutal and unflinching be as it may, all with the hopes of being a free man once more, a king upon my ship and ruling the waves. I was one of the best, and most feared. I will do everything in my power to reclaim my glory.” he said, his posture more erect and his hand clenching in a defiant fist. “I have no love for the Deep Elves, I care for my brother and sister, my crew, and my freedom. Everything else can rot.” he said, slipping on the clean trousers, fastening the string closure.

“You are wasted in this place. You and I are both castaways on an Island ruled by despots, and you could do so much better. You help me find my sister, and I will find your brother if he yet lives. One day I will stand upon the deck once more, and fly my colours proudly, but until then, I must play the Dwemer's game. It is much easier to move on the inside than to be hunted by them, yes?” he asked, slipping the orange tunic over his head. He looked to the woman with appraising eyes. “I am not your enemy, and I owe you a debt of gratitude. I offer you the choice of standing at my side and taking fate into your own hands, or languishing in this place with a few extra coins for your troubles.” he said, reaching into his armour pocket and placing a stack of coins on the shelf- a week's wages for Sirine. 

For a while after Sirine couldn't find the words to speak what was going through her mind, despite her extensive vocabulary. At first it was the surprise at seeing the man completely naked and uncaring of the fact- she hastily looked away when she realized she had been staring. Then there was his actual [i]words[/i], even more attractive than he was. What she wanted, no, what she [i]needed[/i] had eluded her for so long with her having no idea how to find it, and right now it was being offered to her on a silver platter simply because she had chosen to help a downtrodden looking man find a bath and some clothes. It seemed almost too good to be true- her heart clenched as she wrestled the choices she had. Eyes catching sight of the gold on the shelf, she had only to think of her previous night. So much useless work for only a few coins, none of which would truly help her. It was obvious what she had to do, and not taking the chance would simply leave her in regret.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke up. "Well then, looks like I was the one who was caught in the net." She looked away from the shelf and back to Zaveed, taking in the sight of the khajiit in the clothes she'd stolen. It pleased her that she [i]had[/i] been right- he did look better in them than Jamir. "I accept then. I'll help you find your sister, you help me find my brother."

“Magnificent, my dear.” He grinned, fastening his armour and weapons to his frame. Before long, he stood as defiantly as proud as ever. He picked up the stack of coins and held them out to Sirine. “This should help you reacquire your gear, weapons and tools of your trade, then. I require time to recover, but I shall use it to try and locate your brother. I'll need his name, description, and the date he was taken to get started. If you are willing to suffer such indignities of a few more nights working in this den, I will require you to keep an ear open about a Thalmor ambassador and a female Khajiit with a greatsword. Patrons have loose tongues for gossip, and half the reason I come to shitholes like this is intelligence. When I come back in a few nights time, you will never have to step foot in this place again. Is this agreeable?”

Having carefully stown away the coins in the inner pockets of her rucksack, Sirine looked back to Zaveed as she readjusted it on her shoulder, giving him a nod. "It's agreeable," she replied, managing to return a smile that was more or less sincere. "A few more days here is better than a month or a lifetime. As for my brother, his name is Bakih. Bakih Al Nahel. He doesn't look a thing like me though. Around your height, light brown eyes. His hair is distinctive, almost a reddish brown I would say." From the way she described him, it seemed as if none of the family's Redguard genes had ended up in him.

A sound in the distance caught her ear and she realized it was probably best to conclude this meeting of chance quickly. "Probably best you leave now," she suggested. "I'd rather our partnership not be immediately sullied by my boss realizing I stole his clothes for you." She motioned towards the exit silently before heading out herself.

The Khajiit chuckled, tapping the axes on his hips as he stepped out the door behind her. “Oh, don’t worry about him. I have a particular way of winning people over, my dear.” he said, stepping closer to the Redguard woman and stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I will have answers for you, I promise. You’ve shown me great kindness, Beautiful Sirine, I will not forget it.” 

Stepping away and yawning loudly, he took off back into the Gilane streets, humming a pleasant tune. His limp seemed to have disappeared as he strode with purpose away from the tavern and into the crowds.