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WHO: Miles & Vanadi
WHAT: Some coworkers who get along, continue to get along.
WHEN: Not long after Vanadi's arrival-quarantining
WHERE: An inn along the Kirkwall docks.
NOTES: Nothing planned
WHAT: Some coworkers who get along, continue to get along.
WHEN: Not long after Vanadi's arrival-quarantining
WHERE: An inn along the Kirkwall docks.
NOTES: Nothing planned
This particular mission, Vanadi has to admit, is feeling considerably more interesting than the last. This is all still not what he would pick for a job, to be sure, but he'll take slipping into a social space over fighting through nature for herbs half-hidden under rotted logs any day.
He's even gone and dressed for the occasion, setting aside his usually prefered billowing and voluminous cloak for a simple high-necked tunic and breeches, like one of the workers just in from the docks. There are fewer places to hide his daggers, but not none. He'll manage.
"So," he says, eying the tavern's hanging sign as they near it. "I imagine you'll want to be the one plucking up our prize, hmm?" Because he imagines it would probably be a better idea to send Vanadi in alone, the man who specializes in sneaking about, but — he's not likely to volunteer that little tidbit any time soon. He's quite happy to let his new friend here do just as much work as he wants to take on.
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It's not like he wanted to work with Vanadi on this assignment, but he just doesn't blend in with a crowd well enough -- too short to register as a normal human, too gangly and skinny to be a dwarf, and there are stares, always stares. Elves get stares too, but that's its own kind of camouflage. Also, there was no one else available.
Miles has not bothered to dress to blend in, partly because no costume would hide his odd size and shape, and partly because clothes tailored to his size are expensive and he does not have that many of them. "I know where it is," Miles mutters. Because someone told him when he was given this assignment, obviously. "I just need you to keep the nice customers looking the other way. You can manage passively distracting, can't you?"
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"Certainly," he says, and spends a few moments wondering how important it is to him that this pick-up actually go smoothly. Not very, he decides, and smiles unkindly. "Ah, but do you think that will be enough, my dear? If I'm being passively distracting, I'm afraid I can't be very useful otherwise to you."
Trick concern; he would prefer not to be useful regardless.
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"Well, you're in luck, because that's how you can be most useful," Miles mutters, eyes flicking toward the swinging door that leads to the tavern's kitchen. No doubt the staff here won't care for patrons ambling about the backbar. "Unless you've had a past stint as a restauranteur you omitted from your resume."
hello i'm finally here ... clawing out of my grave ........ (i'm so sorry)
He slides into the bar and quickly away from his partner in not-quite-crime, as one stranger entering slightly ahead of another. His is a lazy and meandering course, nodding to various patrons with a friendly smile, before making his way to the bartop itself to snare the current tender's attention with the wave of a few coins. He'll pull out the flirtatious compliments to keep her there, but everything starts with money.
His glance back at Miles to see how the other man is faring is very quick, very subtle. Good luck, little buddy.