Cenric waits. The markets are bustling, and he remembers how he used to love it. Loved watching the people; the seafolk, the merchants, the wealthy and the cut-purses eyeing them from the shade. When he was younger he'd spend the nights with the other gutter kids from lowtown, but in the day he'd watch the people at Hawkers'. It was a great place to practice picking pockets. Easier still to the lose the jacks in the crowd if he was caught.
Now? Now it makes him nervous. He's on edge.
His eyes flitter across the throng of people, to the ground, to the side, back to the ground. Surely Abiga didn't know he was in the city; it was unlike her to wait. But then even now, Cenric doesn't understand the woman, how her mind works. He isn't sure he wants to.
He hasn't brought his lance - wanted to remain as inconspicious as possible - but he wishes it was in his hand. He's one shiv in his boot and one tucked in the belt he wears, but they don't offer much comfort.
His eyes turn back to crowd.
Pull it t'gether. Yer fine. It's fine. Everything's fine. Godsdamnit.
He's getting restless with no sign of Skit. He hopes his client doesn't take long.
Now? Now it makes him nervous. He's on edge.
His eyes flitter across the throng of people, to the ground, to the side, back to the ground. Surely Abiga didn't know he was in the city; it was unlike her to wait. But then even now, Cenric doesn't understand the woman, how her mind works. He isn't sure he wants to.
He hasn't brought his lance - wanted to remain as inconspicious as possible - but he wishes it was in his hand. He's one shiv in his boot and one tucked in the belt he wears, but they don't offer much comfort.
His eyes turn back to crowd.
Pull it t'gether. Yer fine. It's fine. Everything's fine. Godsdamnit.
He's getting restless with no sign of Skit. He hopes his client doesn't take long.
