Watching the smoke, she's reminded of late nights on the docks with sailors, wrapped tight in her coat with the rattle of dice in cups or the hushed whisper of cards over the lapping of the waves against the hulls of their ships. Each time she finds a familiar thing it's a comfort. Not quite an anchor but as close as she'll allow herself to get.

"Information is worth its weight in gold." A bard knows these things. A thief knows it better, all the things she stole and sold in the past. "To be a fly on the wall of some dining rooms and kitchens come tomorrow morning, can you imagine? Rifters, elves, mages, all of them in positions of power in their city?" Still managing to smile; they're sending the message the right way tonight, hopefully. Politely. Well-heeled. All polished manners and flawless courtesies.

As ever, any mention of Korrin pulls out a particularly fond smile, eyes bright. "I am indeed, two years when First Day comes again. You've met?"