He had sent a letter ahead, requesting the meeting with the Registrar on a personal level rather than a professional one. He had come bearing a covered basket and wearing a light vest in concession to the cooler weather, but for once in his life it did not look like he would make his rendezvous on time.
To say that the King of Torchline was a fish out of water among the cramped haze of the narrow streets of the Last Whisper would be an understatement. Hadama loomed without intending to, his expression stoic but the veneer was thin today as he braved claustrophobic quarters to make his way through the covered lane, seeking the address of the bar that had come recommended to him.
After the third dead end alley he had to turn around in he finally stopped to request directions from someone hurrying by. He initially received a scowl and the start of a curse before they looked up - and up - at him, and swallowed back their words. A surly set of landmarks and turnings followed, and Hadama nodded politely and let the man go on his way before he attempted to follow the directions he'd been given.
In the end he was only a few minutes late as he ducked through the door - a significant tuck of his head and shoulders to clear it, only to find that the top of his head was less than an inch from scraping the ceiling inside - and looked around for a woman who fit the description of Kiada Sinclair.
To say that the King of Torchline was a fish out of water among the cramped haze of the narrow streets of the Last Whisper would be an understatement. Hadama loomed without intending to, his expression stoic but the veneer was thin today as he braved claustrophobic quarters to make his way through the covered lane, seeking the address of the bar that had come recommended to him.
After the third dead end alley he had to turn around in he finally stopped to request directions from someone hurrying by. He initially received a scowl and the start of a curse before they looked up - and up - at him, and swallowed back their words. A surly set of landmarks and turnings followed, and Hadama nodded politely and let the man go on his way before he attempted to follow the directions he'd been given.
In the end he was only a few minutes late as he ducked through the door - a significant tuck of his head and shoulders to clear it, only to find that the top of his head was less than an inch from scraping the ceiling inside - and looked around for a woman who fit the description of Kiada Sinclair.
