mmaline grinned and crossed the road to Markus. Tobaro was waking up as the stevedores came off shift as the sun began to heat up the harbor. They surged up from the docks as a mob, peeling off into the various taverns for a liquid breakfast. Emmaline weaved between them helped by the tendency of the men to stop and stare, a few made catcalls which died when their eyes tracked to Markus.
 
“I’ve always found that the rich make the best marks, they have the money afterall,” she explained as she joined him.

“I can do, Imperial aristocracy,” she explained, drawing herself up and glaring haughtily down her nose at the passing stream of dock workers. Abruptly her eyes widened and her demeanor took on an air of contrived dignity.

“Up and coming merchant's wife,” she explained. Her eyes grew vacant and empty and her lip hung as though breathless with excitement.

“And of course ditzy arm candy,” she concluded.