raza
She says VlamVloed like I should know what it is – quick deduction assumes it’s the previously aforementioned tavern she’s been staying at (why, I don’t know – don’t really care either, but make further assumptions about her character based on that) and then compares the clientele. I shrug. “Yes and no. They know to behave here, more or less. We get tradesmen and farmers from the inner parts of Torchline too, when they care to bring their wares to port. ‘S a good location for that.” Really, it’s the location of the bar that brings the sailors and the pirates and the other underbelly folk – that and knowing I’m willing to turn a blind eye to unsavory dealings – often for a price.
“Of course. What kind of bar would this be if I didn’t?” I say it in a kind, teasing way, but the question rankles a bit.
Honey, this ain’t wherever you’re from. This is The Hanged Man.
“What’s your poison?”
“Of course. What kind of bar would this be if I didn’t?” I say it in a kind, teasing way, but the question rankles a bit.
Honey, this ain’t wherever you’re from. This is The Hanged Man.
“What’s your poison?”
