It wasn't so much a struggle to the bar as much as it was pitched combat. Shoving wasn't an option, as the last thing Nero needed was to start a brawl. It took some careful pushing and squeezing through the crowd to even break into what had essentially become a living barricade around the bar of the Wench, filled with clamouring voices and drunken revelry.
Gods save me if they're is stuck in this crowd, Nero swore to himself silently. With how dense the Wench was, his mark could have easily slipped out of entirely without the Hyur even noticing. The nine hours of pub crawling
Nero felt his shoulder collide rather suddenly with someone's head. "Apologies," he muttered indifferently, before noticing that said head possessed some fur-covered ears. It was all the smuggler could do to keep himself from inhaling sharply; one side of him was screaming that this Miqo'te could be his mark, while the other was trying to keep some semblance of composure just in case it wasn't, lest he make a fool of himself in the middle of the tavern.
Swiftly he looked at the person he had bumped into up and down. "Scruffy" was an apt single-word description. Nothing marked her--or him, Nero couldn't tell with the baggy clothing--as anything unusual. A slight bend was noticeable in the tail. Their ragged linen attire marked them as probably some poor fisherman, one of the city's destitute. The fur on the ears was matted and caked in some manner of dirt or other foreign substance. All in all, someone completely and utterly unremarkable.
A slight bend in the tail.
The words escaped from Nero's lips before he could stop them, and to his ears, sounded as loud as a gong.
"Kink."
Gods save me if they're is stuck in this crowd, Nero swore to himself silently. With how dense the Wench was, his mark could have easily slipped out of entirely without the Hyur even noticing. The nine hours of pub crawling
Nero felt his shoulder collide rather suddenly with someone's head. "Apologies," he muttered indifferently, before noticing that said head possessed some fur-covered ears. It was all the smuggler could do to keep himself from inhaling sharply; one side of him was screaming that this Miqo'te could be his mark, while the other was trying to keep some semblance of composure just in case it wasn't, lest he make a fool of himself in the middle of the tavern.
Swiftly he looked at the person he had bumped into up and down. "Scruffy" was an apt single-word description. Nothing marked her--or him, Nero couldn't tell with the baggy clothing--as anything unusual. A slight bend was noticeable in the tail. Their ragged linen attire marked them as probably some poor fisherman, one of the city's destitute. The fur on the ears was matted and caked in some manner of dirt or other foreign substance. All in all, someone completely and utterly unremarkable.
A slight bend in the tail.
The words escaped from Nero's lips before he could stop them, and to his ears, sounded as loud as a gong.
"Kink."
