"Smelly hole." Zhi's reply was immediate, and full of dark amusement. She gave instructions to one of her favorite spots just off the docks and in the tangle of beachfront businesses that catered to sailors and other seafaring folk fresh off their trip. She picked up a skin of alcohol (lighter than was her usual wont -- she was working, after all) and stopped at a few different stalls to pick up parchment-wrapped street-food before heading to the natural gap formed between a cluster of buildings built into the rock and the natural bubble that had formed like a quasi-basement behind them.
A few steps down, and Zhi was in the small space. She had a lantern with her, which she lit and shielded to keep the light down, and then she settled in to await Thatcher.
A few steps down, and Zhi was in the small space. She had a lantern with her, which she lit and shielded to keep the light down, and then she settled in to await Thatcher.
