On the Move

A certain amount of reconnaisance work had been done when he left the tavern. Going through the streets at this time of evening meant there were fewer about, though the Anbar could never really be called empty by any means. Going to one of the smaller brothels, he touched base with the owner, making a deal regarding a certain free woman that was the companion of the owner's present lover. It wasn't anything of the ordinary, a simple job of drawing the woman into an incriminating situation, fitting her with a collar, and then having her hauled to the brothel in exchange for a few simple facts. It had gone well, and he'd gone home to find his sister in the main room, Smith showing up not long afterward.


Out of hatch number five. Once in daylight again, he turned the crank, then used his knee to roll the rock back over the top. The line of bushes did the rest, and he looked around before stepping over them to go into the streets. A
few moments later, he was in the Square, clad in layers of dull, drab, and dusty brown. Head covered, and mud smeared onto his hands. Going toward the fountain, he sat on the edge, waiting:

Time ticked by. To an onlooker, he was just a man taking a break from toils at some filthy job, and the free woman who came in her expensive robes a few ehn later much above in his station. She stopped to rest as well, dropping her
fan at her feet. Leaning down slowly, he picked it up, saying something to her. Holding still to the device, he looked down at it, the woman flipping her head round as if offended by his jest. He'd a smile breaking on his
countenance, though it was largely hidden from the nose up due to his brown hat:

Handing her back the fan, and given a sound smack on his arm, the smile faded. Mainly because the need for it had come to an end. The free woman reached upward, adjusting the covering over her hair, and while her hands were by her
face, whispered a few swift words. A concealed wink too there, and then she whirled about, slipping back into the crowd on her lofty heels. Successful interaction, he didn't look around to see if they had been noticed. Or if he did,
it was also hidden as he bowed his head down, arms folded:

Once the main flood of mid day persons had passed him by, he smoothly stepped forward from off the ridge of the fountain, mingled back into the crowd. It took no small amount of effort to keep the limp out of his gait, but he
accomplished it until he was around the next corner. Cutting a line down the street, he ducked into one of the more meagre inns, and would remain there for some time:
What went unseen unless one were in the inn...His going toward the back, where a private room was located, and pushing a side panel on the fireplace. A descent made down into the basement, and retrieval of a few notes hidden under
the stairs. From there, he went back into the main room, having his lunch since breakfast had been skipped. He didn't examine the notes in public, but would instead wait until he was either back in the tunnel or at Stylus:


I have been working on the project I agreed upon with the head of the Black Caste, and two nights ago finished. I'd walked to the house, and was almost there when I heard steps behind me. Turning and grabbing the women I saw outlined, it turned out to be the slave, who'd been out running and rounded the corner too quickly. I released her, and had her follow me to place across the street from the Warrior's residence. He exited not long after, and I watched him go. He eats his evening meals in a tavern nearby when his companion is working late at her shop. It gave me time to speak to the slave, though she did some acting so our standing there would not seem out place. When the Warrior returned, I pulled her to her feet, and grabbed her ass. He commented on that fact it was fine, and I agreed, albeit it not out loud since I was also at the time kissing her. There is a ball in her tongue, which of course I have seen many times while she was speaking, but never had in my mouth as well. It's a very curious thing.