Fray’s gaze narrowed just a fraction as she witnessed Evyn work. Easy enough to believe the lass was sick; Fray herself would have assumed as much from the start, if Evyn hadn’t gotten all the way here without so much as a slight cough. She looked frail, yes, but the hardness in her eyes and the set of her jaw suggested she had survived this long for a reason.
The Deva crossed her impressive biceps and leaned back into her chair. Between them, the food and drink started looking rather forlorn. She decided to take a sip and a bite, in that order, and only somewhat regretted it after. The food was tolerable, just a combination of roasted potatoes and some dried meats. The ale, on the other hand, was glorified piss, and watered down at that. She frowned as she set the cup down and exchanged it for some jerky to chew on instead.
It was clear that the bloke grinning at Evyn as she spun her lies had only coin on his mind. Fray could practically see the gears turning in his mind, numbers adding and subtracting, no doubt with considerable effort.
“Well, well,” he mused. He was a sinister looking fellow with a long scar down one side of his face and dark, scraggly hair. Fray instantly disliked his oily manner, but if he had any leads then she was all ears. “Best get you back to your brother then, darlin’.”
He stood up slowly, eyeing Fray and her assortment of weapons meaningfully. “Ladies, if you’d so kindly follow me.”
“To fucking where, exactly?” Fray demanded as she showed exactly zero inclination to move.
The man dipped his head in what she assumed was false humility. “My apologies, I haven’t properly introduced myself. The name’s Fedik. I’ve worked a few times with your brother. I don’t claim to know specifically where that schemin’ bastard is at this moment, but I’ve got a pretty go idea of the general area. Which I can show you, of course, for a small fee.”
His grin returned at this last statement. Fray was reasonably sure this was some kind of trap, but they weren’t exactly rich in options. Sighing, the mercenary glanced at Evyn before tossing the man a coin. He caught it with disturbing deftness, one hand flashing through the air before passing over a pouch hanging on his belt. Pushing herself up and out of the rickety chair, Fray finished the potatoes, crammed the remaining jerky into one of her pockets, and conspicuously avoided the ale altogether. She then placed what she thought was the appropriate amount of payment on the table, well within sight of Fedik, if for no other reason than to prove that she could.
“Alright then, Diky boy,” she grinned back. “Lead the way, then.”
The Deva crossed her impressive biceps and leaned back into her chair. Between them, the food and drink started looking rather forlorn. She decided to take a sip and a bite, in that order, and only somewhat regretted it after. The food was tolerable, just a combination of roasted potatoes and some dried meats. The ale, on the other hand, was glorified piss, and watered down at that. She frowned as she set the cup down and exchanged it for some jerky to chew on instead.
It was clear that the bloke grinning at Evyn as she spun her lies had only coin on his mind. Fray could practically see the gears turning in his mind, numbers adding and subtracting, no doubt with considerable effort.
“Well, well,” he mused. He was a sinister looking fellow with a long scar down one side of his face and dark, scraggly hair. Fray instantly disliked his oily manner, but if he had any leads then she was all ears. “Best get you back to your brother then, darlin’.”
He stood up slowly, eyeing Fray and her assortment of weapons meaningfully. “Ladies, if you’d so kindly follow me.”
“To fucking where, exactly?” Fray demanded as she showed exactly zero inclination to move.
The man dipped his head in what she assumed was false humility. “My apologies, I haven’t properly introduced myself. The name’s Fedik. I’ve worked a few times with your brother. I don’t claim to know specifically where that schemin’ bastard is at this moment, but I’ve got a pretty go idea of the general area. Which I can show you, of course, for a small fee.”
His grin returned at this last statement. Fray was reasonably sure this was some kind of trap, but they weren’t exactly rich in options. Sighing, the mercenary glanced at Evyn before tossing the man a coin. He caught it with disturbing deftness, one hand flashing through the air before passing over a pouch hanging on his belt. Pushing herself up and out of the rickety chair, Fray finished the potatoes, crammed the remaining jerky into one of her pockets, and conspicuously avoided the ale altogether. She then placed what she thought was the appropriate amount of payment on the table, well within sight of Fedik, if for no other reason than to prove that she could.
“Alright then, Diky boy,” she grinned back. “Lead the way, then.”