The door to the Drowing Wench swung open, the bald man's head poking in, his body following behind, encased in a long coat that hid the many daggers that lined his belt. His eyes scanned about, finger playing at his pocket, the smooth handle of one of his longer knives sitting comfortably within. Wrapped within a bag placed inside the opposite pocket as a bag, its coins jingling, the noise catching the attention of several nearby.
His lifted his eyes, looking about. The faces of money-hungry men were all around. Exactly what he wanted to see. He held off the impulse to begin paying them off, instead moving to a table, his narrow but muscular frame sliding into one of the chairs. His eyes lit up as his hands moved onto the table.
"Time for a drink."
His lifted his eyes, looking about. The faces of money-hungry men were all around. Exactly what he wanted to see. He held off the impulse to begin paying them off, instead moving to a table, his narrow but muscular frame sliding into one of the chairs. His eyes lit up as his hands moved onto the table.
"Time for a drink."