Amal watched her carefully. Truthfully, he loved watching her speak, his ears picking up every word. He grinned when she stated she wasn't important enough to have enemies. Amal had around a dozen powerful and personal enemies, and he was the most worthless man in Al-Hiekk, at least according to anyone who asked, particularly those that wanted him dead. Street Rat they called him. Not that he minded. It suited him nicely. 

"I envy you." He said. "At least a little. If I found my mother again...I'm not sure what I would do, to her or to me. But your parents did try to sell you, as she sold me. I guess neither of us were wanted." The thief placed a hand on her cheek, the callused hand suitably soft for the moment. 

At the mention of the Witch Hunters and her wizard mentor, he blinked as if awoken. She would see the excited glint in his eye, betraying his thoughts. This was the stuff of tales he heard of the North! Grim warriors and witches burnt at the stake as charlatans spat out useless doctrine to keep the peasants in line. True, it wasn't exactly cheery. But it did lead to opportunities of fabulous wealth if one played their cards right. Dystopian or corrupt governments always bred such occasions. An Arabyan would certainly know. 

"Why not get you accredited then?" He said, his hand leaving her face only to intertwine within her fingers, his large palm overtaking hers easily. "I'm sure we could gain some leverage over your old master to get him to agree. A sniffing Witch Hunter maybe?" He grinned evilly and leaned in to kiss her again before there was a small rolling tumble of a noise. It was good he was such an experienced scoundrel, else he would have caught what was about to fall atop Emmaline. 

Her snake familiar had decided to heat up in the cold northern night, seeking a source of heat. Rather than slithering over to the fire, it wished to be closer to its master and managed to sinuously make its way atop the timber-made dresser. In it's slitherings, the candle it wished to curl beside was bumped and fell. Amal caught it just before it bopped Emmaline on the head or set her locks on fire. The serpent perked its head up, and looked rather embarrassed without changing expressions. 

Amal's hand was callused, but he still felt the candle wax. He swiftly blew it out and redirected its fall to the side, to land holder up atop the table, as if it was set there gently save for the few hard wobbles. Amal was fond of the familiar, but he couldn't quite hold himself back. 

"Hey!" He said, blowing his stinging hand. "You sneaky little trouser snake! I know she's hot as a sun-baked dune but that's a little much." Amal made a gesture of shaking his fist, but found the humor in the situation after a second. He whispered to Emmaline with a clear intent to jest. "I think he's jealous of me. He's seen you charm my snake and can't handle it. Soon he'll be out of work on the street, shaking what Allah gave him." 

The thief actually halted and put a finger on his chin. "He would make a good rat catcher, now that I think of it." The serpent had not been idle, taking the time to reach the couch from above, now perched atop the arm handle as its tail slowly followed. It seemed content to rest there, though it watched them curiously. 

"I'm kidding, my friend." He said to her familiar, smirking. "But we both know the deal. She's yours in the daytime but mine at night. We shook hands on it, remember?"
[@Penny]