The two guards look her over now that she’s rejoined them, and there’s assessing quality to their gazes, sizing her up. Astrid can look threatening when she wants to: when the facepaint’s daubed messy across her face, when she’s in her furs and carrying hunting knives and evoking a foreign barbarian.
But today, though, she’s just a blonde in everyday workmanlike clothing, giving them the brightest shit-eating who, me? grin she can manage. Not much of a threat to the empire. She’s tall for a woman but looks small and skinny next to Barrow.
Finally, one of the men grunts. “Find a pub next time,” he says, while the younger one pockets Barrow’s money and they both turn. Continue down the street. Keep walking.
Once they’re out of sight and around the corner, Astrid lets loose a long shaky breath. “Got it,” she says, without context. The intel dead-drop, the whole reason they’re here.
no subject
But today, though, she’s just a blonde in everyday workmanlike clothing, giving them the brightest shit-eating who, me? grin she can manage. Not much of a threat to the empire. She’s tall for a woman but looks small and skinny next to Barrow.
Finally, one of the men grunts. “Find a pub next time,” he says, while the younger one pockets Barrow’s money and they both turn. Continue down the street. Keep walking.
Once they’re out of sight and around the corner, Astrid lets loose a long shaky breath. “Got it,” she says, without context. The intel dead-drop, the whole reason they’re here.