[center][h3]Dylis[/h3][/center]

Perched expertly on the wobbly chair left for her, comfortably warm beneath the handwoven poncho she wore, Dylis listened attentively to Swift Hand’s pitch. She had never cared much about history. It didn’t matter much when it came to thievery. More to the point, she had always thought the stories of Hadrian’s gold to be nothing more than a fanciful myth. To hear otherwise was no small surprise. Pausing in thought, Dylis sipped contently on the glass of wine that she was nursing, relishing the gentle warmth as it coursed through her. If it was real, hunting down the lost gold would involve great risk, certainly. However, the reward that was being dangled in front of them was tantalizing. A treasure, a real treasure, two million five hundred thousand gold Imperial gold coins split six ways was still a fortune, enough to retire on, enough to live comfortably for the rest of her life. Enough to start again, somewhere nice. Somewhere fancy. Somewhere where she didn't need to carry a gun to be safe. Maybe she could be a proper lady. She liked the idea of that.

Dylis sighed, she was who she was. A thief, a free agent, caught between jobs. The small tasks quietly whispered to the quick fingered had dried up for the moment. The fences had grown fat off of her recent capers. Too fat. Her wallet was heavy enough, but Dylis couldn’t help but want some more cash to tide her over. Some of the others looked like they could use the money. The Shifter certainly looked rough, Dylis thought. He seemed to be the capable sort, and looked as if he had wandered in straight from the desert.

She felt the hairs on her neck rise up at the mention of danger and she resisted the familiar urge to bolt. Taking risks was not the way to enjoy a long career as a thief. Still, walking away seemed equally unlikely to be good for her health. She didn't trust Swift Hands to not resort to violence. She could see it in her eyes. There were serious faces gathered around the table and Dylis had noted no small number of weapons. Although, given the reputation of the Wild Stallion perhaps it was best that way. The presence of the glaive carrying woman had ensured that the other patrons kept their distance. Guns were one thing, but glaives taller than most people were another. Not that the well-dressed gentleman was much smaller, at least to her eyes.

Questions regarding the authenticity of the diary made sense. The other half-elf who had spoken first was right. He spoke bluntly, maybe too bluntly, and Dylis hoped Swift Hands wouldn't get mad. She knew nothing of the women, save her reputation. Dylis felt out of her depth already. She was a burglar, not a historian. She didn’t have much to say when it came to the lost diaries of some long dead emperor, and so she shrugged, "A very...um-mm...a very generous offer. However, I defer to the opinion of my esteemed colleagues. This sounds like a very fortuitous discovery. [i]Too fortuitous[/i] perhaps..."

"However, if it's real. Then well- I would of course offer my services," she added with a slight stammer of nervousness and apologetic smile directed at Swift Hands.