"Yes," he shot over his shoulder as though the whole thing irritated him and half of it could be her fault. He didn't enjoy it, snapping like an ass, and had he been in front of almost anyone else, it wouldn't have been worth it. The last thing he wanted was anyone from the Coterie suspecting a personal relationship between him and her. The ways that could be manipulated were too varied and damaging to contemplate. He believed that Lusine had bought the act. He couldn't be certain, of course, but it seemed so. She wasn't shooting them any more of her searching looks. She just seemed to want them out of her hair.
He changed quickly and did his best to stay near a screen. He couldn't be sure there weren't eyes on him from somewhere, hidden passages or Coterie hiding holes probably scattered throughout the place. The breeches weren't a perfect fit, a little tight across the hips and a little short. Tucked into his boots the latter wasn't obvious. He kept hold of his ruined pants. He wasn't going to leave anything behind to be used who knew how, particularly with his blood on it.
When he met Hawke in the front, Madame Lusine was there, too, along with one of the workers. He didn't know if she was a prostitute or one of the girls who helped with the business side of things. He was about to let Hawke know he was ready to go when movement caught the corner of his eye close to the door opposite the rooms they had just vacated. It was one of the crabs. The only way it could have gotten out of the basket was if someone had opened it and rifled through it.
His jaw tightened as he closed the distance to pick it up from the side, holding it behind the front claws to keep from being pinched. When he turned, the brief look of cold fury Lusine shot the girl and the way she shrank back told him that rifling hadn't been sanctioned. "Watch the back there," he said to Hawke, quick with the lie. "We've got a hole." He had no love of what went on at the Rose or the character of its employees. He didn't want someone beaten or worse over a basket of crabs. It might happen anyway. He had done what he could to prevent it.
With a nod to the madame, he opened the door for Hawke. It didn't look particularly gallant with the way her arms were full. He made it less so by scowling.
no subject
He changed quickly and did his best to stay near a screen. He couldn't be sure there weren't eyes on him from somewhere, hidden passages or Coterie hiding holes probably scattered throughout the place. The breeches weren't a perfect fit, a little tight across the hips and a little short. Tucked into his boots the latter wasn't obvious. He kept hold of his ruined pants. He wasn't going to leave anything behind to be used who knew how, particularly with his blood on it.
When he met Hawke in the front, Madame Lusine was there, too, along with one of the workers. He didn't know if she was a prostitute or one of the girls who helped with the business side of things. He was about to let Hawke know he was ready to go when movement caught the corner of his eye close to the door opposite the rooms they had just vacated. It was one of the crabs. The only way it could have gotten out of the basket was if someone had opened it and rifled through it.
His jaw tightened as he closed the distance to pick it up from the side, holding it behind the front claws to keep from being pinched. When he turned, the brief look of cold fury Lusine shot the girl and the way she shrank back told him that rifling hadn't been sanctioned. "Watch the back there," he said to Hawke, quick with the lie. "We've got a hole." He had no love of what went on at the Rose or the character of its employees. He didn't want someone beaten or worse over a basket of crabs. It might happen anyway. He had done what he could to prevent it.
With a nod to the madame, he opened the door for Hawke. It didn't look particularly gallant with the way her arms were full. He made it less so by scowling.