Closed [Pig's Foot] Biting at the Bait (Caela)

[Eleazar Victor Syroin]

7th of Summer, 514AV Eleazar ran, angry footsteps following him as he fled. It was funny how quickly he was finding himself in this situation routinely. Actually it wasn't funny at all, it was terrifying. Dirt and stone rushed by underfoot as a sudden brick fallen from the buildings sent the thief sprawling on the ground. Two pair of thick fingers hands dug into his shoulders throwing him up against a wall. One set remained to force him back into the brick work as the other tore the stolen satchel from his grasp, a thin mouth sneering at him below scum coloured eyes whilst the coal coloured glaze of his partner inspected their possession over for damage. Finding none, the bag was slung safely over his shoulder before a nod signalled the first punch. A second slammed into his cheek followed by a third, maybe black-eyes were back in fashion this season. Trying to bring up hands to protect his face only lead them being pinned above him by a firm hand whilst the other kept loading out bruises across his face. One bleeding nose and a few chimes later, his abuser's breaths had grew hard enough that beating the teen was too much effort. Following the release of his hands, Eleazar let his body unceremoniously slip to the group having learnt sometime ago that it was better to play possum than try to tough it out. “What a weaklin'. Bastard actually 'ought 'e could have stolen from us.” “Pathetic. Anyway 'eadin' down ta 'e Fish?” “Why not? Beatin' 'e runt 'as got me 'irsty.” Making sure they had gone, the teen's body came back to life, straining to it's feet as it dusted itself off. Bony fingers worked their way across the tend flesh up his eyes, he was going to need a good strong drink to get over this mess. Groaning he set off not for the closest tavern, he had enough of those two for one day, but for the Pig's Foot. The journey could have been shorter but he didn't feel like running, his head was woozy enough with blows and syna's burning glaze that the risk of crashing head first into a wall was becoming a legitimate threat. The tavern soon swallowed him in, doors propped open to get some air flow through the humid crowd of bodies. Plonking himself down by the used end of a table, the teen removed his coat, folded it in half a few times before letting his head rest on it. Sighing, his shoulders eased up and down letting the over sized linen shirt flow gently off his scrawny frame. Arms encircled his make shift pillow, pulling it into a loose hug as his eyes slid shut. Today had been a long day, he just needed to sleep for a bit then he could get going again. It's a shame the rest of the tavern didn't seem to share his view, starting up the fiddler and pianist just as he was on the verge of falling into slumber. Oh what was it now?

[Caela Dorin]

There would be no table dancing for Caela today. It had been something different, something new to try but that didn't mean that she wanted to do it again anytime soon. It was far too great a temptation for men to try and touch when she was in such easy reach. There was no ready escape when she was on a table either, no way to dodge an unwanted hand. The first, and only, attempt hadn't turned out too badly for the dancer but the girl had seen the potential for molestation. That was the last thing that she wanted to have to deal with.

Instead, her feet were going to remain firmly on the ground, or at least at ground level. She wasn't wearing the fancy multi-layered skirt that she'd worn for her table dancing, just a simple one. The waistband of the skirt hid the bottom of the corset that she wore under her blue blouse. It wasn't going to be particularly comfortable dancing, what with the corset restricting her breathing where it pressed tightly around her but her movement wasn't too restricted, she'd made certain of that. It was unlikely that her audience would care particularly if her movement was a little restricted, they'd be far more interested in her figure, which the corset was doing an excellent job of accentuating. Her curves looked somehow more natural when she was wearing it, filling in the places where there was little meat on her bones.

Stepping out onto a clear section of floor, she could feel a welcome breeze from the open doors of the tavern. It'd be even more welcome when she started to sweat. She shook her blonde hair out, tangling her hands in amongst her locks to further separate them. She hoped that her freshly mussed hair would give her a wild, sexy appearance as opposed to just looking messy but she had no way of checking; she didn't have a mirror. It was the small things that made all the difference, which is why after she gave the nod to the musicians, she made contact with a number of the customers, allowing a secretive smile for one and a wink for another. It was all about connecting.

One patron wasn't going to have a chance for that sort of connection seeing as he was going asleep, or was exceptionally drunk, with his arms pillowed under his head. He was out for the count so her eyes moved away from him without sparing him another thought. She wasn't able to spare many glances for anyone else as the music started up, a familiar melody that she couldn't quite place. It was good dancing music anyway, alternating between slow and fast. She'd have a chance to cool down in between more vigorous dancing.

Her foot tapped unconsciously on the floor, keeping time with the music as it seemed to fill every cell of her being. It wasn't long before the tapping stopped, the reaction to the rhythm moving to her hips instead and spreading to her whole body. Her hips swung, her feet moved, her hair was swept about her face as she found it impossible to stay in the one spot. The music had taken possession of her body and it was difficult for her to have any control over it at all. Yet she was able to guide herself closer to one of the tables, a hand on her skirt, hitching the material up slightly so that more flesh would show when the skirt fanned out around her on a spin. It would only be a glimpse and then she'd be just out of reach if a man at the table had the urge to touch. A tease, a taste of what was beneath and then she'd be gone, moving to some other table with a suggestive expression and a near flashing as her clothing moved freely with her movements.

It was fun in a way to torture men so as long as they didn't come looking for her afterwards, as long as there was no danger to her person. It felt good to be in control, to have power over what they glimpsed.

The garter holding up one stocking was "accidentally" moved up higher than it was supposed, allowing the stocking to slide down her right leg to reveal smooth, muscled flesh. A brief stop to readjust it, propping her leg up on a seat as she pulled the stocking back up and fixed it in place. Spinning away with her leg still held in a near horizontal position and regaining her balance with both legs on the ground as smoothly and gracefully as possible. It was all part of the show, something that had many of the men watching drooling over her. Men could be relied on to be fascinated by a brief glimpse of something that hinted at more.

x

[Eleazar Victor Syroin]

As the music only grew louder also did the footsteps and lewd cheers from the men in the bar. A beat seemed to be established as the encouraging stomps and bashes of ale mugs unified in rhythm with the fast moving bow of the fiddle. He really wasn't going to get any sleep here. Groaning the teen lifted his head up from it's pillow, eyes still groggy as his right hand moved to rub them into life again. Daring to crack his bruised lids open only showed him the reason for the music. A woman spun and danced about the bar, hips swaying in an erotic manner to the melody echoing out of the tavern. Shimmying up to the nearest table only to dance out of reach at the last second, she taunted the patroons with a toothy grin, wild blonde curls bouncing elegantly from her head as she spun. A hand hitched up her skirt flashing the men a brief taster of something she would probably never let them have before she glided away with a cheeky smile. Eleazar watched with a lazy interest, still too sleepy to fall into the level of awe the greasy haired Svefra a few seats down from him was showing. The lady obviously knew her stuff as a copper or four seemed to appear in a few hands ready to throw it at the woman once her performance ended. No wonder, her natural curves seemed to swayed in all the right ways and as she spun a little closer, it was obvious that her face was adorned with long lashes and plump lips. Though some nagging part of his mind, which sounded obnoxiously like Eleanor, warned him that he had seen this blonde woman before. Crinkling his brow, the teen examined the swirling form of the female from a far. She didn't look like the type of person he would know; clean faced, clothes without holes or obvious stain. Then again Sunberth was one of those places where you have literally walked past someone every day of your life and not know their name; but would still be able to recognise their face if you saw them in the street. Now come on Eleazar think, how would you know this woman? She might work at the Pig often enough that he would know her from his late evening 'borrowings'. Although she didn't look like the type that would stay once the bells grew dark. Okay next obvious option was that maybe he had stolen from her. If so what had happened, what had he taken, had he succeeded? Well it was most likely he did, it was hard to find someone in the city that could out run him, not that he was going to boast about it. Then again, he seemed to get caught fairly regularly just as he had this morning. Tsch, just his luck. Returning his attention back to the woman in question, his eyes strayed down from where she fiddled with her garter to the toned muscles of her legs. Pulling her bones gracefully from one movement to the next, she obviously wasn't a fragile as she liked to act for customer's. Similar toning was present in her arms, hopefully in whatever had transpired hadn't involved her catching him. She looked like she could throw a mean punch or crush a man's throa- Strangulation. Oh shyke! Suddenly really interested in the piece of wall opposite the dancing female, Eleazar's face was one off complete and utter terror. So that's why she looked familiar. She was that crazy blade carrying blonde that had near chocked the life out of him in spring, might have been his fault for snatching her purse but still. Swallowing deeply a hand came up to shield his features from view, the corresponding shoulder hunching up to help hide more of his face. Maybe if he left now she wouldn't spot him or maybe she wouldn't recognise him anyway. What was the difference between one grubby street rat from another? All his silent plotting fell flat however as twirling footfalls edged closer to his position, breathes slowly tickling the back of his neck. Petching shyke.

[Caela Dorin]

Caela thought on her feet, thinking of the tricks that she had already used. The garter trick could be repeated but to do so would be tacky in her mind so she wouldn't. Variety was the spice of life and so she'd have to come up with something else to use. She ran through a list of tricks that she'd accumulated in her mind. Some she'd already used, some she hadn't done in awhile. Some could be modified. If she could sit down on a table, there was a chance to truly tease her audience, although there would be a fine line between keeping her dignity and revealing more than she would like. It could be done though, if she could just find a fairly empty table. Even then there was risk of being man handled.

The sleeping customer! He'd been sitting at a table alone and if he was out for the count then there wouldn't be any danger to herself. Her eyes flitted to the table in question as she spun. He seemed to be awake but he didn't seem all that interested in what was going on judging by he way that he was covering his face. The dancer made her way over to that table in slow degrees,even coming close to it a few times before moving away again. When she reached the place that she wanted, she perched herself on the table, her back to its disinterested occupant. This could be her finale for now. After that they could wait a half bell or so and she might deign to dance for them again.

Supporting herself with her hands behind her, she leaned back, her hair sweeping out behind her. It'd probably be very close to the man's face but the dancer didn't care. The movements of her legs were rapid, a tease in the extreme as the glimpses were fleeting. It was a good thing that they were fleeting, given what she was doing. Her legs were extended out in front of her and then spread quickly and pulled back in again. That certainly got a reaction from her audience who cheered and called for more. They wanted to see more but it wasn't going to happen. One leg was kept straight out while the other was bent inwards, her foot following along the inside of the extended leg. Her muscles protested and she allowed herself the relief of stretching them out again. Her legs crossed and uncrossed, moving in and out as the music came to an end, the movements rapid to go with the tempo of the music.

Her legs moved apart one last time as the music came to a close and she jumped down. An exaggerated bow later, a number of men in the audience were tossing coins at her. She wasn't going to go around scrabbling for coins like a pauper. Instead, she'd wait awhile, gather them up and give them to Merv. That was the deal. She gave him her tips and he provided her with pay when she needed it and as many drinks as she might want.

She'd soon lose the interest of the patrons once they realised that she wasn't doing anything more for their entertainment. She'd captivate them again when the time came but in the meantime, she wanted a drink and peace and quiet. Signalling Merv at the bar, she seated herself at the table she'd finished her show on. For the first time, the blonde realised that the man was making every effort to hide his face from her. Head tilting to the side to catch a better angle Caela scrutinised what she could see of his face, which wasn't a lot. There wouldn't be any reason to hide his face if she didn't know him so she had to have had a run in with him before.

A mug of water was placed on the table but an absentminded thank you was the only reaction. Brow furrowed, the dancer tilted her head again and found herself reaching across the space to move the hand away. It was a stupid thing to do, hence why she stopped before she actually touched him.

"Do I know you?" she asked softly. A horrible thought occurred to her. "You aren't one of Mal's friends, are you?" she asked, not quite able to keep a note of horror from her voice.

x

[Eleazar Victor Syroin]

Of all the tables in the bar she could have chosen it was the one he was sat at she had picked to complete her performance. Legs flowing together and apart quickly, punctuated by small kicks as her arms supported the majority of her weight from the table just out the corner of his eye. One last tease of her legs as the music escalated to final crescendo, fiddle drawing out the last note as the blonde jumped from his table back to the floor for a concluding bow. Cheers and wolf whistles filled the Tavern as what sounded and felt, a drunk's aim was never perfect, like coins were tossed toward the star of the show. Still as tense as a strung bow string, Eleazar barely dared to breathe as the commotion died down. One quick glance out saw that patroons were returning to their drinks as the dancer seemed to be done for the time being. Talk about dodging an arrow, the woman had been barely a foot away any closer and he would have really been scre- She was back again. Lounging casual against the table as her hair coiling down from head. Sharply turn his head away, hand still in place as he tried desperately from heaving in the air his lungs felt deathly short of. His mind almost shut down when she spoke directly to him, asking a question he wasn't going to answer least his bruised face receive a second battering that day. So instead he focused on the second thing she asked him. Mal? He didn't know anyone called by that name let alone was he friends with them, his own friend group being drastically small. Mainly Seng and Nov to be honest, that is if he didn't count the little assemble they had cobbled together back in winter. He wouldn't trust a single of those people to save his neck nor did he feel obliged to risk his well being for them but only time would truly tell. Regardless he answered the woman in a jittery nervous tone, deliberately not bothering to turn to face her or move his hand. “Ah? D-Don't know no 'Mal', so Ay'm probably no friend o' 'eirs. Heh, but no need tae worry, jist ignore me and it'll all end well fer both o' us, ya know? Ay mean Ay don't want no trouble.” A weak smile peek out from under long, dirty fingers once he was finished, a small allusion to the panic roar through the thief's blood with each passing tick. Maybe she would give up and leave him be or maybe she would just sit there staring at him till he was forced to make a run for it. Either way he needed a drink, now. Signalling over a bar maid he was spoke his order as clearly as his thick sunberthian accent allowed. “A mug o' any'in' alcholic 'n' cold, please mi lady.”

[Caela Dorin]

Sitting across from him, she couldn't get a good view of him, no matter what way she turned. He was very deliberately hiding his features from her. Either there was a very good reason why he needed to stay hidden, or he was frightened of her. Neither made sense though. If he wanted to remain hidden there were better and less obvious ways of going about doing it. As for being frightened of her that just wasn't possible. She'd never given anyone reason to fear her and she wasn't exactly intimidating, at least not in the normal way. Her looks and manner made some men nervous around her but that was it. This man had been hiding himself even before she had come near him. That was highly suspicious.

At last a reply came, nervous and thick with an accent that many Sunberthians spoke with, although the dancer didn't. The tone was what she picked up on even as she listened to what he was saying, trying to match it to his words and failing. He wasn't a friend of Mal's, or so he said. He was probably telling the truth though. Mal's friends would never be that nervous. They were always cocky bastards, even when they weren't in a group. The stranger didn't want to attract her notice, even though he didn't seem to want to bother her in any way. There was something familiar about the voice though, particularly when he said he didn't want any trouble. The dancer had heard that voice say that phrase before somewhere. Her forehead creased in thought as she tried to dredge up more of when she'd heard that voice.

He allowed a smile to peek out from between his fingers but he didn't take his hand away. There had to be a fear of being recognised or else his face wouldn't still be hidden from her. He even kept his face covered when he signalled for a barmaid. Was he going to order from behind his hand and look like a total idiot doing it? Yes, he was going to do just that. Still, she couldn't get a good look at him so instead she glared in his direction, trying to work out where she might know him from.

The blonde came into contact with a lot of men but she never paid attention to them so she wouldn't remember them. No, this person had had her attention, which was unusual. There weren't many men that she gave more than a glance, let alone talked to. There was Mal, who she hadn't seen in a few years and she didn't want to see him anytime soon. There was Merv but it obviously wasn't him. Matthew... She didn't like to think about Matthew after their last meeting but he was far too distinctive to miss, besides which he didn't talk like that. Her mind sought anyone else that she'd seen in the spring, intending to go back further if she didn't find anything. Trouble was the key. Had she run into anyone who didn't want any trouble from her? Had she run into any trouble in the spring? She'd had a run in with that man the night before but the previous season was relatively free of drama. There was just that time that that youth had tried to rob her but he wouldn't have been stupid enough to...

She almost launched herself across the table to wrench his hand away. If he wasn't expecting it then it would just tear away.

...show his face! Sunberthian accent, not wanting any trouble, hiding his face. It was him! It was the thief! He was the only one that made sense! "You! Ignore you, you must be joking!" the young woman growled, her face a mask of fury. He wasn't getting out of this bar if she had anything to do with it.

x

[Eleazar Victor Syroin]

Eleazar hadn't noticed the hand lunging at him until it had roughly dragged his hand from his face before the teen could react, a once pretty face twisted into a feral snarl as recognition bloomed begin her cold eyes glaring him down. Shyke. Shyke. Shyke. Shyke. Maybe if he had been facing off against on of those viscous tigers from Falyndar, he would have had more chance of surviving. As it was, trapped with pristine nails keeping his wrist firmly locked in an iron grip with the dancer growling out implied threats, a sharp squeak escaped his mouth. Calm down Eleazar and look at the situation! She wasn't going to kill him in a public place like this, no matter how much she might want to. That would get her fired and ruin the Pig's reputation, along with the fact that Merv would be mad, which was never a good thing. Okay, so he was vaguely safe here, she might throw a punch or two but in the tavern he was safe. So maybe he could calm her down and they could talk things over. Preferably once he had his drink to at least use as a weapon if he petched up along the way. “C-Can't we talk 'is o'er!? Well, A-Ay mean ta say we met under pretty bad terms last time, right? 'n' Ay don't even know yer name or much aboot ya 'n' no doubt ya know nothing ta note aboot mi. So why don't we jist talk 'n' try ta no piss of Merv by wreckin' 'e place. So please could ya let go of mi wrist and calm doon. May be we could even... possibly...become gu- unlikely fri- erm...acquint- ..um... business partners? ” He stuttered and stumbled over the words, free hand digging it's fingers deep into it's coat as his eyebrows moved to emphasize each syllable with a reasonable dose of nervousness and personality. Babbling had quickly become a useful tool in his line of work, stunning those he had angered with a flood of words, spewed out with a thick accent, leaving them left to try and figure out what on earth he had just said to them whilst he darted from the nearest exit. That's not to say he didn't mean a word of it, on the contrast, sitting at a table getting to know a pretty woman who wasn't trying to kill him was a very appealing idea. However he doubted it would go that smoothly. Oh boy, how did he even manage to get himself into these situations!?

[Caela Dorin]

It was him! His face was considerably less purple than it had been when she'd last seen it (no one had strangled him this time) but it was definitely him. He'd stolen her purse and she hadn't taken it lightly. Judging by his obvious terror, he wouldn't have risked putting in an appearance here if he'd known that she was here, known that she'd worked here. He'd learned something from his encounter with her it seemed. Her hand stayed fixed tightly around his wrist as he babbled, stopping him from trying to do a runner before she'd given him a piece of her mind. There was going to be no easy escape from her clutches and he knew it.

"How dare you show your face around here, you thieving little vagik!" Caela hissed, yanking his arm as if she was going to try to haul him over the table. It wasn't necessary though. He wasn't going anywhere without his arm. "What do you think is going to happen to you now that you've had the nerve to show up near me, huh?" Each word was punctuated by a tug on his arm and she half expected it to snap. He was a scrawny thing, something that she thought she could use to her advantage.

The thief wanted to talk his way out of this clearly as he blathered on, his accent becoming thicker and more incoherent as he talked. She could just follow it though, having listened to such excited accents before. His words simply incensed her more. "Bad terms is right! You tried to steal from me! You tried to take the money I earned from me! I'd certainly say that we parted on bad terms and that tells me all that I need to know about you," the blonde retorted. Despite her words, she continued to listen to his near pleading. She scoffed as he stuttered over what they could be if they got to know each other.

The dancer considered him silently, wondering if her anger was a little too strong. The boy had learned a lesson and emerged worse for wear after the learning of it. He wouldn't try to steal from her again and she wasn't self-righteous enough to put him off stealing all together. Other people didn't matter to her. Listening to the boy couldn't do any harm and there was always the possibility that she could use him. He was certainly scared enough of her to try to stay on her good side. Hearing him out might be to her advantage.

Her hand released his wrist and retreated to her lap. Her expression was still far from friendly and she was hoping that a sharp look would be enough of a warning that he wouldn't try to make a run for it. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't hurt you?" She raised a brow, her expression condescending. "How's the neck by the way?" she added sweetly, a not too subtle reminder of what she was capable of doing to him. Perhaps she was right and he could offer her something worth using him for. If he didn't well then she wouldn't feel too bad about taking his money and kicking him out. He'd be easy to beat, judging by the new bruises blossoming on his face. She'd see though, he might well surprise her.

x

[Eleazar Victor Syroin]

The teen flinched at each insult growled his way by the dancer, he should have left the moment he realised it was her. She relentless tugged at his arm with each word, decreasing the distance between them, crushing any possibility of him escaping. So much for talking his way out of this, she only grew more livid with rage with each word, her outbursts causing a few heads to turn as his arm felt ready to pop out of its socket from the tugging. Anger flaming around her with syna rays graced her wild blonde hair turning it into a golden inferno to match her fiery rage. Snatching his arm back to his chest the moment she released it, Eleazar rubbed at the new marks forming on the wrist area. What the petch was her problem anyway!? She had got off mostly scratch free from their encounter with all her possessions still on her. Her would-be-thief on the other hand had got nothing but bruises and a mild breathing problem for the next week, because that was fair. Anger built up steadily in his gut as she continued to mock him from across the table, fear bowing in submission to fury as he leant forward over the table chin out as far as he dared. “A reason, why ya shouldn't 'urt mi? Well, what was 'e arm wrenchin' 'en!? Warm up? 'ought the dancin' would 'ave done 'at already, blondie. A reason why ya shouldn't 'urt me. Pah, like any'in' Ay say will change 'at. If ya want ta 'urt mi be done wi' it 'n' leave mi ta mi peace.“ Pausing the male was about to continue his little rant when the barmaid returned with a cold, mug of what looked like ale, carefully eyeing up both him and the taverns prized dancer with curiosity. Plucking the beverage from her hands gently, he took a sip before looking up at the woman with a soft smirk, ignoring the dancer in the process. “'Ank ya very much. What da Ay owe ya?” “Four coppers for the single mug, unless ya want more...” “Nah Ay'm fine wi one.” Slipping a hand into his coat's right hand pocket, long fingers extracted a few bits of change he had on him handing them gracefully over to the barmaid. “'Ere have 'alf a dozen, an extra two ta keep fer ya good service.” Shooting her a charming grin as she went back to work mildly bemused by him, Eleazar took a long draught from the beverage. The brown booze was bitter and stale on his tongue but took the necessary edge of his pain and temper. Resting the cool metal of the mug against his face, the thief sighed as it brushed against the swelling red mark marring his features, eyes sliding shut in contentment. Breathing steadily, he almost looked asleep with his free hand propping up his head, hair ruffled and stuck up at all angles with the help of a little sweat, grease and mud a lazy smile curving over his lips. The illusion broke when the teen mumbled something out the corner of his mouth, too low and garbled to make out that he had to repeat it, eyes drowsily opening. “Mi neck's fine... Unless ya want ta change 'at. Jist go away 'n', 'e next time ya go round 'e market, cover up ya 'air, blondie. Makes ya real easy to pick out from a crowd 'n' 'ere are nastier people 'untin' round 'ere 'an me. Jist a 'int fer next time.” Receipt6 CM - Mug of Ale

[Caela Dorin]

He was her victim once again it seemed. She hadn't strangled him this time but her enthusiastic arm pulling had certainly left him in pain, judging by the way he kept the arm she'd yanked close to his chest. She was grimly pleased to see the marks that she'd left on his wrist. It was good to know that she had some strength at her disposal, probably not enough to deal with a real opponent but still, it was good to be the superior in this situation. He wasn't so eager to take this lying down as the last time. His pride must have suffered when he was helpless in his grasp, anger beginning to blaze in his eyes instead of fear. The dancer was in no danger in here if he lost his temper. Someone would help her, Merv most likely, before things got too out of hand. He wouldn't resort to violence though it seemed, instead choosing to take out his anger on her with words, defiant now that he was out of immediate harm. It was more like whining to her ears. His last comment made her lips curl in amusement.

The dancer had a retort ready without any thought but before she could voice it the barmaid returned with the thief's drink. The exchange made her snigger, particularly the tip which sent the girl off in an air of bemusement. He was so terribly charming, wasn't he? She snorted at the thought before voicing her opinion once the barmaid was out of earshot.

"Ooh, so you do have some fight in you after all. I was under the impression that you didn't have the necessary... traits to be one," she remarked coolly, her talk of traits a euphemism for what she was really getting at. "Do you usually buy your women, or were you just hoping that a charming little tip might soften her up a bit? Shame that you can't throw a few coppers my way seeing as you have it give to someone that you didn't try to steal from," the blonde added, giving him a meaningful look. She'd settle for compensation for his actions. She'd been well within her rights to take her money back but that wasn't good enough for her. The dancer was still sore about him trying to take it in the first place.

The young woman watched him as he used the mug to try to ease the pain that the marks on his face must have caused. He'd obviously botched another robbery sometime earlier in the day. Maybe he was often caught. If that was the case then how much money did he really gain for himself? Judging by the state of him, he didn't get all that much to eat so maybe he only scraped just enough together to get by. If that was the case then demanding money from him would be cruel. Perhaps he could pay her back some other way. He could probably run fairly well. He certainly would have outstripped her if he hadn't ended up in a blind alley. Did she have need for a fast runner?

His last words took her by her surprise and made her bristle defensively. "I'm not going to strangle you again, it was sort of an accident in the first place but I'm well aware what sorts there are about the place, thanks. I may not sound like it -I can actually speak- but I was born and raised in Sunberth. And I have looked like this for quite awhile," she snapped back at him. "I know exactly how men think and believe me it's not my hair that usually makes me stand out." Her tone had become bitter and she had to close her eyes, breathing deeply to try to calm herself down a little before she continued. "I'm not proud of how I earn my money but I work hard for it, do you understand? I don't appreciate you trying to take it, no matter whether you need it, so I expect some sort of repayment. You haven't got a bit on you so I won't ask you for money that you don't have but you can owe me a favour, understand? And take my word for it, I'm being kind."

Rising from her chair without waiting for a reply, she made her way to the bar and arranged something with Merv that made him raise his eyebrows. Kindness wasn't a trait that she usually exhibited and when that kindness involved spending money it was an even rarer occurrence. For one moment she'd allowed herself to really see the teen and she'd let pity worm its way into her heart. It was just a small cost to keep him healthier in the long run for when she found a use for him. Still the sight of the gold mizas that she handed over was enough to make her want to take it all back but no, she'd let him have a good meal and then he really would owe her.

Returning to her table, she felt somehow drained by what she'd just done. Such a small amount of money but still it had been her money and to spend it on him irked her. The young woman seated herself across from him once more and raised her mug of water in a toasting gesture. "To business. Whatever that turns out to be." The water went down in rapid gulps and the mug was plonked on the table afterwards. A chime later, a barmaid arrived with the thief's meal and Caela asked for another mug of water but wished for something stronger. She would probably have to start dancing again soon but until then she'd try to work out what use this thief might be to her.

Receipt2GM for good meal
Word Count972 words

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