"You're--" the guard begins, a little bit louder, but his accusation is cut short by the shout from the alley, which results in a big, stupid grin on Barrow's part.

"Sorry mate," he says in a politely conspiratorial undertone, "you know how they are, couldn't get to a privy in time."

The older guard's expression deadens with a sigh, and the younger one puffs up in indignation-- "you can't just--" he begins, but his partner claps a hand on his shoulder.

"Ten silver for public indecency," the older guard drawls, taking no pleasure in it. The younger, imperiously, holds out his hand.

"Oh-- uh," Barrow blinks, caught off-guard, and begins to rifle clumsily through his coinpurse.