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[sub][color=8E939E]✧     Location: Soft Haven Bounty House     ✧     Purse: 12 copper     ✧     [@Hero] [@Achronum] [@McMolly]     ✧[/color][/sub][/center]
Although the questions posed about mercenary work had no bearing on him, Kyreth still listened with interest as Cerric and Aleka explained the House’s handling of contracts, savoury or otherwise. It was surprising to hear how their operation was run with so little oversight; Kyreth was well accustomed to the honour system, but he was under the impression that that arrangement only really worked in a tight-knit community where your employer knew where you slept in case he ever had to come collecting. He’d have thought things would be more… formal, he supposed, in the civilized world, but apparently the logistical difficulties of managing a fleet of adventurers was a dilemma that spanned the classes. All the better he’d be keeping away from it; he didn’t need that halfling lady or anyone else accusing him of falsifying a token and running him out of town. Again. 

The creaking of the large Bounty House doors interrupted the explanation, revealing a woman in well-used armour lugging a sack. One of their “tokens” no doubt, but she was gone before Kyreth had the chance to speculate what might be inside. Probably for the best. Apparently she was a respected member of the House, so it really could have been anything. 

Kyreth wondered absently if the House provided the room she went to or if she rented it from them as another woman descended the stairs. It was the same woman who took Aleka’s registry book, all prim and proper like before, and she addressed the room to— wait, was she asking for [i]him?[/i]

Eyebrows flying up, Kyreth actually looked behind him at first, just to make sure there wasn’t anyone she had somehow mistaken him for. But no, that was his name, alongside the fake surname he’d literally just adopted, so it seemed there was no mistake. But… really? What would a [i]Lord[/i] want with him? And why was he even here and not off in a castle somewhere ruling from afar like nobles were supposed to?

Kyreth stood on reflex, feeling even more awkwardly tall and out of place than when he came as he noticed several eyes in the room turn in his direction. Dread crept up his throat like bile; this was about Straithmoor, wasn’t it? A fake name couldn’t hide him forever, it couldn’t even hide him for a day – his crimes followed him all the way to Soft Haven and now the Bounty House Lord himself was going to detain him and see that justice was done. Dammit! How did he ever think this was a good idea?!

Before he even had the chance to follow (or run – he hadn’t yet decided), someone stepped in his path, effectively trapping him. It was the highborn woman – Eila? – and she clutched her breast as she looked up at him, eyes brimming with… concern? 

[color=palegreen]"Forgive the rudeness,"[/color] she said, unwrapping her cloak from her shoulders and holding it out to him. [color=palegreen]"Why don't you use this? It isn't every day one can meet with an esteemed figure, after all!"[/color]

Kyreth blinked at the woman, utterly speechless at the inexplicable act of kindness unfolding before him. The second of the day, in fact. What the hell was a well-to-do Elven woman doing handing an expensive cloak to a complete stranger, and a Tainted at that? What was more, while her tone was gentle enough, the way she did it really felt less like an offer and more like a demand. Her spot in his path, the way she smiled, the way she looked at him as she held out the cloak – it all made very clear that the gesture really wasn’t optional. 

[color=8E939E]“Oh— um, thank you,”[/color] Kyreth said hesitantly, his tone coming out somewhere between a statement and a question. He couldn’t very well refuse, but something in the back of his mind was wary. It felt like a trick; like the second the cloak left her hands, she’d run to the guards and call him a thief. But she was so sincere – so… naive, even – that he couldn’t help but take the cloak anyway. 

As soon as the heavy fabric hit his hands, he looked like it was the first time he’d ever seen a cloak before. Thick, wooly, and expertly dyed in deep, rich green, its quality was clearly in a league of its own. Hells, the clasp alone could probably buy a few nights’ stay in a nice hotel, assuming any ever let him cross the threshold. It made his own cloak, ratty old square of canvas that it was, look and feel like garbage – or, more aptly, even more like garbage than it already was. And this woman handed it over like it was little more than a handkerchief. Was she crazy? 

Accepting the cloak seemed to satisfy her, and she even went so far as to smile and pat him on the shoulder like a well-meaning relative. Kyreth returned her smile as best he could in his abject confusion before quickly and quietly taking his leave, tossing Lilann a telling glance on the way. He dreaded what he’d find in Lord Mystralath’s study, but at least it couldn’t be any weirder than what was going on in the lobby. 

He waited until Vivian led him around a corner before changing into the new cloak, not wanting to show his horns in front of so many people. Not that hiding them did much good, since they all already knew what he was, but that didn’t make much difference to him. He’d been hiding them so long it felt borderline indecent to reveal them now. With a fancy new cloak to hide in, he could pretend to be an upstanding citizen for a little longer, before the local authorities dragged him out in shackles. 

He ran a hand through his hair to smooth it as he changed, absently wishing he’d have had the chance to bathe before being lent something so immaculate to wear. Even just touching it felt wrong, the contrast between his rough hands and the soft fabric all the more striking when he noticed a bit of dirt on them from his night in the graveyard. Eila had a point there, at least – he certainly couldn’t go see a Lord looking like he’d spent the night literally sleeping with the dead. 

He struggled a little with the clasp, nervous to break it, before finally replacing the hood and addressing Vivian. [color=8E939E]“Sorry to bother you,”[/color] he apologized instinctively, [color=8E939E]“but… did the Lord say why he wanted to see me?”[/color] 

He was a little scared to hear the answer, but at least this way he could maybe scope out an escape route before he was locked inside.