[Pipino]

Pipino's heart thumps violently in her breast as she makes her way into the streets of Ul'dah from the Goblet, hiding in shadow where possible and taking the path less traveled. Adrenaline courses through her small body, making her feel as if her very nerves were on fire, a feeling that was wholly new to her. Nothing in all of her 33 years made her feel as alive as sneaking around the city like this did, and although she was terrified the majority of the time during these missions, she found the feeling addictive. Shapes are blurry, and the few flickering lights that remain on the street look like brilliant clouds of fog as she moves through the city without her glasses. Her heeled boots click and clack a little more loudly than she liked, but being a Lalafell allowed her to be much lighter on them than most. That was the drawback to only owning fine shoes, she supposes. Adjusting her weighty leather bag containing her supplies on her shoulder, she disappears behind some crates in Pearl Lane and makes her way carefully toward the empty Sapphire Lane markets.

[Gair]

Another late evening for Gair before his patrol, the protest of a youthful Miqo'te girl of nearly ten winters could be heard as he sets her down from her perch upon his large pauldron. “A'right, Yen.” He jabs his chin up toward the Quicksand. “Your mum should be off her shift ere long, give Momodi my best, aye?”

A pair of yellow eyes with the telltale vertically slitted pupils of a Seeker of the Sun give him a displeased look. “But uncle Gaaaaaaaaaiiir, can't I come watch you patrol?!” An indignant foot is stamped and her tail raises, bristling and demanding of the highlander.

Taken aback by the sudden outburst and a halfstep back from the youth. As any adult trying to find the middle ground between placation and authority, Gair asserts. “Yen, my patrols 'ain for little ladies. Now go find your mum.”

“But-”, the Miqo'te tries to protest.

Immediately cut off, Gair tells her. “No buts, kitten.”

She huffs in answer and relents, somewhat dejected. “'Kay..”

“Don' give me that look.” He kneels down and scoops her up in one more hug. “Love you.” He adds in an attempt to make the parting easier.

“Love you too.” And she pecks a little kiss on his cheek before she pads off.

And with that, Gair was on his way for the Sapphire Lane himself- armed and armored in his Elite harness. Bearing a falchion on his belt and a hoplon strapped to his left arm.

[Pipino]

The Thavnairian turban wrapped around her face caused her nervous, fast breaths to rebound, a soft condensation building around her mouth that was mostly irritating, if not wholly unpleasant. She had not bargained the evening to be so hot, and the heavy coat she had made a part of her disguise did nothing to relieve the cloying humidity. She had considered doubling back and calling off the installation, but she had already come this far. It would be pointless to stop now as courage and decisiveness in her came as fickle and fleeting as a cool breeze in midsummer.

The plan was a little more elaborate than most of her plans. Starting with one stall and hopefully finding time to do one more on the other end of the market to draw more attention, she would tack up a sign she had prepared in advance written in a sharp and violent script that had the appearance of dripping blood at the edges of the serifs that read:

SALE

PRESENT A BRASS BLADE

AND RECEIVE FREE LOW BORN BLOOD

After attaching the sign to the stall, she would simply take up a can of paint and dump a large amount over the counter and on to the ground, using a large brush to splatter the paint over the bricks and rest of the shop's surfaces.

She decided to make her way cautiously toward the first stall, one that was in the middle of line of others to provide more cover, walking purposefully in case there was anyone lingering. Pulling her glasses out of her coat pocket, she put them up to her face to make a final check of her surroundings before pocketing them once more.

A look to the right - a look to her left, a look behind her, and above her at the buildings above. Receiving the blessing of isolation, the artist lifted the flap to her pouch and set to work.

[Gair]

The armed and armored highlander clanked down the main strip of Ul'dah, his helmet lightly hanging from his belt as he makes his way into the Sapphire Avenue from the Steps of Nald. The dusky and lamplit street provide more than ample cover for those even at a modest distance, even moreso for the diminutive Lalafel going all Banksy on the owner class. Upon stepping into the Sapphire Avenue, he peers off into the odd side-street. His left hand idly resting on the rounded pommel of his falchion, gauntleted fingers drumming the brass fittings of his weapon. “The lane seems quiet today, tha's good..” He mumbles to himself idly and finally begins to reach the stalls. The sight of a dim blob moving about one of the stalls begins to catch his sight as he closes in, making no effort to conceal his approach. He watches the figure, waiting to have them clearly in sight before hailing them down.

[Pipino]

Pipino hears the clanking of the armor before she can see anything else. She freezes in place and looks around toward the noise, holding her breath and squinting a bit to see if she can will a shape into focus, but her poor eyesight betrays her desires and grants her no boon. She simply stands there for a few seconds like a antelope stag caught in a lamplight before cursing under her breath and making to dart behind the stall, only hoping that the figure would not have seen her. Naturally though, in her hurry and her unfamiliarity with the lay of the stall, she manages to run into a crate, bouncing off of it and falling on to the ground, releasing a yelp of surprise before she scrabbles to her feet and shuffles behind the counter, managing to nestle herself among some goods stored on the shelf on the counter's store-keeper side.

She can vaguely see red paint all over her gloves from where she had fallen on the bricks, having managed most of her display. Panicking as she made a sudden realization, she reaches into her pocket and shoves her glasses hurriedly onto her face to see that in the kerfluffle, she had managed to tip the paint container over in her bag, a painfully obvious red trail, leading all the way to her hiding spot. Giving up on being blind momentarily she leaves her glasses on and reaches to her waist to pull out her daggers.

If a certain clanky shape were to investigate her position, he would see an inflamatory piece of protest art accompanied with an obvious trail of paint that led to an extremely dishelved and paint-covered, seemingly savage Lalafell, the dark clothes and face of whom were completely besmirched by the bloodred paint as if she had committed a violent crime of some kind.

[Gair]

Gair's advance is only hastened by the sudden scurry and ruckus created by Pipino colliding with a crate. *“Another late night thief.”* Is what comes to the highlanders mind at the rather sudden reaction to his approach. A wary gaze is spared for the surrounding stalls, as if he was expecting an ambush of sorts from accomplices. Ten fulms or so from the stall he can clearly see the red staining the cobbles, at the very sight he instinctively tucks his hoplon close and lets out his falchion with a sonorous *'shing'* that rings through the dry air of the market. “Murder.” passes through his thoughts.

In the presence of potential danger, he creeps even slower as his narrow gaze appraises the entire scene for what it is. Of course the oaf would pick up a scent faster than he could read the graffiti and his inner dialogue continues. *“That's not blood.. oil, paint?”* He dips the tip of his weapon in the red path and the nostrils of his absurdly large nose flare to take the scent in, idly following the trail with his gaze as he examines the scene. Instantly he is relieved by the revelation, the metaphorical bow in addition to the tension being severed for the man: the graffiti itself.

“PFFFFF-HAH!” Gair cannot keep ahold of his mirth, a deep laugh roaring out that does not cease for a good ten seconds. His shield and sword both are held at ease by this point, though he is careful to use it to trace the line of “blood” where it leads: behind the counter. Wood on steel clattering as he taps the counter with his falchion and circles around to the merchant's side. Doing his best to sound like business, there is some amusement in his voice when he demands. “A'right, you messy marmot. Come out, hands where I can see 'em.”

[Pipino]

The chilling sound of a metal blade scraping against the only thing that makes it not a danger to the Lalafell has her spine tingling, every hair on her body standing to attention as the reality of the danger of her situation began to wash over her like an egg being cracked over the top of her head, dripping cold. She purses her lips tight and tries to hold her breath to stay as silent as possible, only discovering that unbidden adrenaline heightened and doubled the need and pace of that particular life giving function. She tightens her inexpert grip on daggers that feel more alien the more she considers the possibility of having to use them. She listens carefully, hearing the soft clicking of armor as well as the soft thuds of slow footsteps growing nearer.

The laugh though – that catches her off guard. The fact that it is completely disembodied from any sort of expression rattles her. Is it the laugh of a hyena having discovered that there is prey near at hand, or the blueprint to the unhinged madness that only gil and an order to kill can buy that she fights so hard to end. It feels like it lasts for minutes just on the other side of the counter as she begins to tremble, tears starting to well up in her wide eyes.

Thoughts race through her head. If anyone catches her, it would be the end of her life as she knew it in Ul'dah. Not that she would necessarily be killed, but the possibility was certainly there if it was a Brass blade tapping at the wood behind her. She would most certainly disowned from her family and thrown from her gilded cage to fend for herself only to become the helpless little bird that knew only how to chirp for help and not how to fly on her own, a prospect that would keep her up the nights before she would go on these little adventures. The money and luxury would be easy to part with, but without knowing much of how the world works, and with her illustrious name tainted, she would be hard-pressed to find a way to support herself, much less find somewhere to live. She would be utterly alone.

She snaps out of her unpleasant reverie as the man's voice makes its demand, her whole body screeching to attention. Her exposed eyes dart left and right as she locates the man's legs awfully close to her hiding place. It would be only a matter of time before he would uncover her location. Taking a slow and calming breath, Pipino takes the chance to throw a dagger from her hiding place to the opposite end of the stall from where the legs stood, hoping that the loud clatter it would make would cause him to hurry toward it and give her a chance to run for it. Should he not go for the dagger, she would make a break for it regardless, only she would attempt to drive her dagger into the unprotected portion of his leg as she passed, hoping to immobilize him enough to scoot past.

[Gair]

The sight of the dagger clanking to the opposing side of the stall caught his attention for the barest of moments. Knowing what happens in situations like this, he was a singular slip-up from finding a dagger in the ribs. Sympathies with the artist didn't matter anymore, this was a matter of being able to go home safe and sound now. The amusement fades all at once from Gair as he folds that hoplon close to his body, his falchion curving around the ridge of his shield like a singular steel fang ready to bite. He growls out and barks in an irritated tone. “STAND. DOWN.”

Deciding that rather than being potentially ambushed from beneath and among the stalls merchandise, he would.. re maneuver himself. Definitely not in a way a Brass Blade would, sellswords who care first about pay and collateral damage of the owner class. No, he slammed a boot right into the edge of the counter and stepped forward. Charging over it like a bull in a Hingashi shop, his shield covering his vital areas: the unarmored thighs and his stomach. A spectacular bit of destruction as it topples over and sends various low-value sundries all over the street. Likely to surprise and scare anyone, though the direction it falls is unlikely to actually hurt anyone. His gaze darts around the wreckage as he turns about face for the would-be knife thrower. A warning clash of his falchion on the rim of his shield as he holds both at the ready.

[Pipino]

Pipino lets out a involuntary yelp at the soldier's sudden movements, her own untrained ones not prepared to deal with the much more confident and practiced ones of her adversary. She was relieved the man was not a Brass Blade at least, but her acts were still criminal and the risks were just as great. However, she does not stick around. As soon as the stall is toppled, Pipino attempts to use the commotion to run toward the dark alleyways beyond the markets. She hopes she can at least get a head start on the larger man and use her size to disappear into a small opening or dark shadow.

No matter how darkly she was dressed, the pounding of her shoes on the cobblestones beneath her would instantly give away her attempted retreat. She does not look back, but she does drop her weapon. Perhaps if he knew she meant him no harm in the end, he would allow her to go. She knew her stamina was probably no match for his, but she had to try. This is a fight for her life.

[Gair]

Expecting to square off against the knifeman in the shadows, Gair more or less watches for a bare second as they dart off for the darker back roads. His chin lifts to appraise the potential approach of the red-clad brass blades in the distance. Perhaps not wanting to answer for the damages to private property, he too darts off into the alleyway in pursuit of his pint sized quarry in a sprint. The little light that shines in the alley glistens over the dagger she had abandoned, mid-run does he cock his shield hand back and yell. “STOP, DAMNIT!”

And like some sort of anachronistic Captain America does Gair throw a haymaker among haymakers forward- letting go of his shield to send it flying like a solid iron frisbee. At the least he knew he had to give this miscreant a scolding, and so he resorted to a far less than lethal method. The hoplon clatters on the ground and skids toward Pipino's legs, his every effort intended on tripping her up.

[Pipino]

She still does not look back, her breaths becoming ragged and panicked, her voice starting to be incorporated into them as her emotion begins to surge into overdrive upon realizing that he was not going to stop pursuing her. Since she does not look back, she is completely taken by surprise as something smacks hard against the back of her foot, the force of it causing her heel to slip forward and knock her feet forward from underneath her, causing her to land roughly on her back. Her head smacks against he stones below her as she was caught upawares, unable to properly catch her fall. Her cry of surprise and then her second cry of pain and fear as she was reminded of the large man barrelling her way rang through the streets as she desperately tried to scrabble her way to her feet. The dull throbbing ache of her foot matched with the stinging, almost burning pain at the back of her skull makes this all the more difficult, the attempt relatively slow and clumsy, but still filled with desperation and wide-eyed terror.

[Gair]

“Got you!” Gair yells as the shield hits its intended mark, the successful lob only making him run harder to capitalize on the advantage it rendered him. There was a mix of pride in actually hitting his quarry with the shield, but the yelp of pain squashed any internal fanfare for the soldier right quick. An audible screech of steel on stone rings out as he comes to a sliding halt over the scrambling lalafel. The broad tip of his falchion is presented inches above her belly as he demands. “Hands where I can see 'em, no wands or knives!” After he yells his orders, he holds fast- using this moment to catch his breath in the hopes the chase is over.

[Pipino]

There had never been a statue as still as Pipino was this very moment, her tear-filled eyes being the only thing visible of her expression from under her wrappings, the blue pools overflowing into streams that cascade down the sides of her face in her prone position as she stares in pure fear at the face above her. She very carefully and slowly lowers her hands to the ground, her palms up. But….wait a moment. She blinks, her brow furrowing a bit. But…well, no. She had just hit her head. She was seeing things.

[Gair]

Gair just watches her for a moment before retracting his weapon, instead reaching out with his left to pull the turban from her face to properly identify his quarry. Immediately are his brows screwed at an odd angle as he is face to face with a *very* familiar lalafel. He glances down the street where they had just ran from, then back to Pipino, then the streets, and back to Pipino for the forth time. “Uhh.” Is all he can dully utter in that moment. “Miss.. Pino?” He hazards a guess, the disbelief in his tone clear as day.

[Pipino]

Pipino begins to panic as her turban is removed from her tear streaked face, revealing an extremely anxious Lalafell who is biting her lip and bracing for whatever repurcussions were to come. But upon hearing her name, relief washes over her as her body practically melts into the pavement. Out of anyone that could have caught her in the act, this was surely the best possible outcome. “Oh..w-well,” she starts, blinking up at him, realizing her first assumption was indeed correct. “Fancy meeting you here,” she posits, sniffling a little pathetically, still laying stock-still just in case his employment meant a lot less to him than she had thought it might.

[Gair]

The distant sight of handheld lanterns lighting up the entry to Pearl Lane begin to illuminate the far end of the street. A wary glance is spared behind him and he quickly looks back to Pipino, a hand immediately offered to get her to her feet. Gair drops the pleasantries to ask. “Can you walk? It will be… inconvenient for the both of us to be caught, now.” He still has a look of complete bewilderment and confusion painted all over his countenance, as if he'd jumped into a mad tale of a certain famed detective and his Miqo'te assistant.

[Pipino]

She accepts his hand and allows herself to be assisted back to her feet. She tests the foot quickly and replies in a soft voice, “Yes, I should be able to manage, but if it comes to being caught by Brass Blades or you needing to carry me, I shall suffer the indignity should I start falling behind.” She pulls her turban back into place as she starts off down the alleyway. “Where to?”

[Gair]

“Good.” Gair jabs his chin up the road to the Palace entrance that connects to the lane. To which he begins to walk at a brisk pace and explain. “Miners guild, kill the turban once we're inside, it'll look suspicious.” Upon making it to the threshold of the palace after a brisk and hurried pace, he glances back. Slowing himself to a normal walk, picking up a rather innocuous conversation out of nowhere as some yet-aware Blades near the pair in passing. “What think you of the refugees having the right to bargain for their wages these days?”

[Pipino]

She does as bidden, quickly stowing the turban under her arm inside her coat and not caring too much if the feathers get squashed a bit. She keep her back to the door, her face an absolute mess from sweating and crying so much in such a short space of time, but she latches on to his conversation like a pro, having had this type of discussion many times before.

“Well, I think it only fair as long as the bargaining reflects the value of the services being garnered. I am afraid there are many individuals out there that feel that they are entitled to wages for work that does not warrant such a large sum, and then they simply cry foul after they are summarily declined.”

[Gair]

After the initial passage of guards makes their way, Gair's hand fishes out an uncharacteristically dainty handkerchief from his deep pockets. Much like a father who is used to such things, begins to wipe Pipino's face clean with a practiced hand. Deftly and efficiently dabbing away the corners of her eyes and taking a pass over her forehead once they had rounded a corner. The topical discussion dropped like so many hats as he listens for the departing footsteps that had passed them by.

“You scared the hells out of me back there, by the by. I had a bit of a whiplash, thinkin' it was a murder scene, then vandalism, then I thought I was gonna get a knife in the ribs.”

[Pipino]

Pipino struggles a bit at first at the fussing, but eventually lets him handle it only because she did not have a mirror to do it herself. She must look dreadful, after all, and that was something she is not accustomed to being. “The same could be said of you,” she says with a bit a of a defensive tone, not enjoying all of this parental scolding. “I thought perhaps someone found out and had at last alerted Lolorito and tipped him off and you were coming to take off my head. And…well, just for the record, I was going to go for your knee, not your ribs. Those are a bit too high for my reach.”

[Gair]

Gair reflexively raises his foot up a little higher in the next step. “Glad I went over the stall, then.” Quickly does he fold the little cloth away and stuff it into his pocket once more, the keen eyed might see cat-paws embroidered into it. His left hand resting idly on the pommel of his falchion as the pair mount the steps down to the bawdy miner's guild. “Thank the Warden I found you 'an not some business minded Blade, then. I don' really give two shits about petty crime, I try to give the roughs a scare 'an set them right. Most thieves're starving anyhow, what good is it to gaol and fine a penniless brat?”

[Pipino]

Pipino considers his words for a moment. “Well… You do understand that I am not a penniless brat by any measure of the word,” she starts, walking alongside him but letting him lead the way. “This would be a perfect opportunity to really give it to a Monetarist, you know, our contract be damned. It would mean nothing if you chose to turn me in.” She looks up to him and grins in a teasing way. “Have my charms already managed to foster such an affection in you? Not that I want to be turned in…,” she adds, still knowing that in this interaction, the power dynamics are not in her favor in the slightest.

[Pipino]

Any mentions of charm from Pipino illicit an audible and rather unattractive snort from Gair. His tone as dry the namesake desert they inhabit. “Charms that dwindle by the moment, if my cards're played right. My own wealth 'an a favor from the Syndicate may well earn me a lesser seat.” He trails off, his right reaching up to scratch his rough chin. “But then I'd be someone elses dog, whose only merit was draggin' down the person above 'em.” After a pause he re-affirms. “You might not be penniless, but you're still a brat. And you'd be without gil if I hauled you to the Blades.”

[Pipino]

She gives him a sidelong glance, curious. “So…you have thought that far ahead about my plight then. I must confess, I am impressed. And….,” she pauses, her look appearing a little more sheepish now, “I suppose I should say I am grateful. You had many opportunities to put an end to this wretched life of mine, yet you did not, so I live to paint more pointless portraits for pointless people,” she says wryly. “I thank you. I have a debt I yet owe to Ul'dah's people and though my methods are….risky to say the least, I at least hope these side projects of mine stir something in the hearts of those who can make a true difference. That is…if you will allow me to continue them.” She looks to him, knowing very well that she would be asking him to harbor a very large secret for her, unsure if such tactics aligned with his code of ethics.

[Gair]

Gair grunts and pushes the double-doors to the miners guild open, holding one side for Pipino to walk through. “I'm dull, not an idiot. Spare me the flattery.” His fingers drumming on the brass pommel of his weapon when life ending is mentioned, oddly enough- there is a bit of gratitude in his voice when he speaks. Likely for not having to actually use his weapon tonight. “I try to avoid killin' when I can, some folks up and make that decision for you. Most actual crime is just kids down on their luck, lads like me.” His shoulders lift in a faint shrug at Pipino. “So long as you ain't hurtin' anyone or marking stalls'a honest folk. I actually got a good laugh outta your poster, shite was pretty spot on.” He flashes a toothy grin down at Pipino.

[Pipino]

She lets out a small laugh, smiles rather genuinely for once – not the soft one that belongs to the Monetarist facade she typically wears to keep her distance. “Oh, that was what the laugh was! This is…so strange!” she says, her face lighting up as she speaks. “I never really get to hear any feedback about that side of my work, so it is encouraging to say the least to find that it hit its mark.You should let me know if you have any good ideas.”

[Gair]

“It was good! Less funny when a knife was thrown at me, or when I came on what I thought was a bloody scene. I'll let'cha know if I've any ideas to share myself.” Gair barks out a mirthful laugh, rather flippant about the whole affair of potentially being knifed. He finds the abandoned center stage of the guild and leans up against it. Expounding on his peacekeeping methodology some. “I seek a fine balance myself.. scare off the small time roughs so they don't lose a hand to the Blades. While lookin' for the real bad ones, killers, kidnappers 'an the like.”

[Pipino]

“Well, the knife was thrown -away- from you,” she muses, putting her hands on the edge of the stage and vaulting herself up with her powerful Lalafellin arms honed through years of dealing with bad, large people design, seating herself at the edge of the stage with her legs hanging off the side. “I really did not intend to hurt anyone but….well, getting caught would be the end of a lot of things for me. I feel you know well enough that I am not really capable of hurting much. But desperation will drive one to do strange things, does it not?”

[Gair]

“Well, I had no way'ta know. I saw a weapon and reacted accordingly.” Gair folds his arms over his chest, fingers drumming on the lowly hanging pauldron over his left arm. One digit lifting to indicate Pipino in suggestion. “That may be so, but someone inexperienced is liable to hurt themselves or do too much to someone by accident. Perhaps a little trainin' might do you well, so you at least don't fall on your knife.”

[Pipino]

Pipino looks over to him with a dubious look. “Oh come now, you jest surely!” she says, laughing. “Where would I even find the time to go sneaking off to do such a thing.”

[Gair]

Gair presses X to doubt, giving Pipino a look of utter disbelief. His lips creeping up in a most terrible grin before he flexes his lower-class work ethic. “I'm certain you can make time betwixt nose powdering, milk baths, couch fainting and looking down your nose at the poor.”

Gair hastens to add. “Oh, and coin counting.”

[Pipino]

Pipino pouts in annoyance and crosses her arms in a huff, aiming a kick at him. “Oh what would you know about what goes on in my daily life?”

[Gair]

“Well.” Gair squirms from the kick, her annoyed reaction illiciting a mirthful chuckle from the highlander. “Hah!” His heels drum the stage amusedly. “Your family must be quite the paupers, then. No time to yourself, or excess gil to simply have leisure time. You hands must be like leather, being worked from dusk 'til dawn..”

[Pipino]

The Lalafell blushes scarlet and composes herself grumpily, right leg crossing over left, the foot wiggling around in irritation as she turns away from him, arms still crossed. “They are not, and if they were, it is no business of yours,” she replies with an entitled bite in her tone, not something she tended to resort to except when she knew someone was right and catching her in a moment of obstinance. “What type of training do you have in mind then,” she asks, giving him an irritated sidelong glance.

[Gair]

This jolly giant just laughs even more, filling the miner's guild with even more of his mirth. Gair's arms unfold and lay on either side of the stage around him. “It was a joke, a joke!” He exclaims back, trying to fight back the odd fit of laughter. His fingers slide forward and curl over the edge of the stage, which suspend him as he begins to lean back some. “Basic arms training, since I can do a little bit of everything. Guns, daggers, swords, axes, spears, fists.” After a pause he goes on to explain. “Though I'm best with a long sword in two hands.”

[Pipino]

“And I am best with a paintbrush in mine,” she retorts. “I suppose if you insist I am at least in possession of….well, I -was- in possession of daggers, it would make sense to start there. Small things that can be hidden as I cannot be caught with a storeroom full for armor and weaponry in my studio.”

[Gair]

Finally in control of his own amusement, Gair just has an ever-present grin painted on his features. “If only a brush could kill. Alas, we can start with some lighter weapons- mayhap get you some forms of armor that would go without suspicion.” He claps a hand over his harness. “Maille under a shirt does wonders and is often the coolest option in Thanalan. Otherwise.. any heavily padded clothing can turn a knife and keep you from losing bits from a sword.”

[Pipino]

“This….this is really all a bit much,” she says hesitantly, uncrossing her arms and fiddling at the cuffs of her coat nervously. “I do not know that I am built for such….tasks.”

[Gair]

“Eh, poppycock!” Gair waves a dismissive hand, which somewhat off-balances himself mid lean. Sending him swivelling to one side for a moment before he catches himself on the floor with a foot and rights himself. “How about you sleep on it? Need you an escort home?”

[Pipino]

“I should be fine from this point on. The only one I was in danger from tonight was you after all,” she replies cooly, hopping off the stage, her hard-soled boots clicking on the floor and heralding her landing. “Perhaps, if…if you would agree, I could tell you when I plan to be out doing this type of thing and you could perhaps keep an ear to the ground. Not that you need be complicit in my crime, just…if you would help keep me from trouble if I need help.”

[Gair]

Gair pushes away from the stage. “As you wish, Pino.” His boots clip as he takes a few steps to the middle of the guildhall, gaze cast down at Pipino. “I'm a soldier, petty crime ain't my thing. Especially when it don't hurt no-one at the bottom.” He makes the suggestion before he steps out of the double-doors of the guild. “You might do well to know when and where the Brass Blades'll be. Don't need a bribe, neither.”

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