Low rumbling chortles drifted down from the rafters as a midlander clad in brown leathers leaned back against a support beam and chucked the paper he'd been reading to the cobblestone floor below. Candlekeep Quay was quiet tonight... or rather, it had been, until his laughter had filled this warehouse. He sighed rather theatrically despite his lack of audience.Â
"Crofte, Crofte, Crofte," he murmured, the smirk on his face slowly growing into a full-blown shite-eating grin. "Warned you about the quality."
The man glanced down for a moment at his copy of the Tonberry's Lantern, a pensive frown suddenly tarnishing his features. He snorted, then broke back into that sinister smile.Â
"Just goes t'show," he grunted as he scratched his back and drew his bandana over his face to settle in for the night, "there's no such thing as good press."
"Crofte, Crofte, Crofte," he murmured, the smirk on his face slowly growing into a full-blown shite-eating grin. "Warned you about the quality."
The man glanced down for a moment at his copy of the Tonberry's Lantern, a pensive frown suddenly tarnishing his features. He snorted, then broke back into that sinister smile.Â
"Just goes t'show," he grunted as he scratched his back and drew his bandana over his face to settle in for the night, "there's no such thing as good press."
![[Image: 1qVSsTp.png]](http://i.imgur.com/1qVSsTp.png)
