A new purse-spective

[Sindaria]

It was market day, which meant that Sin was busy scanning the faces of the men, women, and children making their way through the crowded aisles of market stalls, looking for her next mark. It was true that there was not nearly as much money to be made in cutting the purses of unsuspecting peasants as there was in catburglary, but it was an activity that harkened to Sindaria's modest beginnings with thievery, and kept her in touch with "the common man." There was little risked with the average purse-cutting, now that Sin had reached an uneasy truce with her fey-granted heightened reflexes. Truthfully, after the paranoia of getting mixed up in Cal's crooked dealings with that village woman and her foreign friend, Sin welcomed the mind-numbing routine of picking marks and lightening their loads. This day, after three hours of concentrated effort, she had slipped the bounds of that incessant worry - that somehow, she had grossly miscalculated the appropriate course of action with regards to the strangers, or the imagined government tails who had witnessed her exchange with him in that hidden alehouse halfway across town.

Sindaria's eyes fixed on a tall, pale, lean man with brown hair and a goatee. He was making his way through the crowd with the kind of assured postural arrogance that bespoke a familiarity with power, money, or both. Though he was dressed in the loose-fitting clothing of a coin-carrying commoner, he did not seem to be as keenly interested in the wares being offered at the market booths as those around him. It was only after a few minutes of careful observation that Sindaria deduced what he was really interested in, and the realization caused her to curse under her breath in a way that startled the old ragseller she'd been screening herself behind as she surveyed the actions of the interloper. Obviously, he was either unaware of or unconcerned with the fact that he was harvesting purses in Sin's territory - an act punishable with severe physical retaliation, were Sindaria actually a member of the city's thieves' guild. She furiously skimmed the flashback images of the guild members she'd met in the past year, trying to ascertain if this athletic-looking male counted among their numbers, but failed to detect a match. The young man was also not among her remembered "regulars" for this market - meaning that he was an outsider she would have to deal with without the assistance of guild or thievish guile.

Sindaria's stomach drew itself in knots as she continued to watch this unknown skillfully rifle through the pockets of several marketgoers without their knowledge. Once, when it seemed his actions might have been detected, he unleashed an ingratiating smile at his female mark that transformed her latent attitude from one of aggressive skepticism to fluttery simpering. Even Sin had to admit that the effect was, well, disarming. It took almost ten minutes, but Sindaria finally determined what her course of action would be. It was simple really; she would steal from the thief who was pouching her marks.

[Anders]

"My sincerest apologies, madam," Anders said with a courteous bow and an intoxicating smile, "it seems in the presence of your beauty I have forgotten such simple things as how to walk."

"Oh," the woman said, blushing mightily and diverting her gaze for a moment, during which Anders pocketed the sum of coin he'd just picked off of her into a satchel on his belt. Gathering herself, she smiled apologetically. "And it seems I have overreacted." She paused for a second. "I don't believe we've met before. Might I know your name?"

"You may...if you'd allow me to buy you dinner tonight."

She blushed again. "You are too kind. Although, I'm afraid-"

A man approached, drawing the woman's attention by gently grasping her arm. "Everything all right, dear?"

"Yes, love, I was just speaking with-" she turned to introduce Anders.

But of course, he was already gone, back into the crowd. Anders had noted that the woman was with a man when she entered, likely her husband. His offer of buying her dinner had guaranteed him an escape without telling her his name, as well as guaranteeing that he wouldn't need to buy her dinner. Anders supposed she was pretty enough, but he certainly hadn't been stunned by her beauty. That hadn't happened since...well, not for a long time.

Anders adjusted the nearly golden colored longbow slung across his back. He planned to go for a hunt after this. He was getting out more and more these days. Anything to take his mind off things for a while. He was able to lose himself in a sort of sanctuary when hunting. Indeed, it was his first love, and likely the only one that would last a lifetime.

He scanned faces as he passed among the shoppers. An old mother, hunched over and muttering to herself. A pair of young boys, darting among the others. He found a pair of startling blue eyes among the crowd, belonging to a raven-haired girl, and Anders held her gaze for a brief moment before moving on. No one really looked like they were carrying a large sum of coin, but then, coin wasn't exactly what Anders was after here.

Pickpocketing had started as a necessity for Anders, but had evolved into more of a hobby. It was a different kind of hunting, a kind in which nothing need die. Death had a way of being...tiring. Also, the pitiful amounts of forests in Thar Shaddin were disappointing, to say the least, to Anders. The city could sometime be more interesting, even if it wasn't as relaxing. Occasionally the crowds could get to him, if he saw a face he thought familiar, darting among the others. There hadn't been any ghosts haunting him for the past year, but Anders wasn't sure if that was due to them giving up on him, or his skill at laying low.

He checked his pouch. A decent haul, given the marks. Perhaps one more, and he'd call it a day. He continued sliding through the meandering crowds, waiting for a mark to catch his eye.

[Sindaria]

Almost as if he had detected the thought in the moment she had thought it, the stranger looked up and made clear eye contact with her, and ashamedly, she was the one to break it, not wanting to stand out in his memory as anyone more than another potential mark, though the slow burn of her anger towards this intruder longed to escape through the cutting gaze she had previously shot in his direction.

Though the weather was fair, Sin pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and began to criss-cross the aisles, from stall to stall, in the general direction of the man who was her new mark. With a practiced motion, she removed her dagger from its sheath at her belt and held it close to her body, under her cloak. She slowed her breathing, to take long, deep, relaxing breaths as she smoothed all expression off her face, visualizing the exact approach she would take in her final steps to intercept the man from behind. She watched as he weighed his purse with an unoccupied hand and noted the general vicinity in which he spirited it away again. Indeed, her focus was so intense that she almost tripped over a pair of cavorting boys, fighting over a newly purchased bag of roasted chestnuts, but was saved at the last minute by the ice-cold chill of a fey-led freezing of her leg muscles. Her breath caught, and she gritted her teeth as she watched the stranger once again recede into the crowd in front of her. If she'd had the time, she'd easily have given the boys a sharp tongue-lashing, but as it was, she couldn't afford to reveal herself.

She brushed by the boys, fighting off a repulsed shiver, before once again catching sight of her mark. He seemed to be intently studying some woven baskets at a stall just ahead of her, but Sindaria knew her work well enough to realize he was really surveying some minor noble arguing with the bearded basketweaver about the outrageous overpricing of his handiwork. It seemed that she would get no better chance to try and lift his purse, as his attention was divided between his subterfuge and his mark, but Sindaria still felt some foreboding hesitation as she slowly slipped an errant hand toward her goal, her dagger gleaming in the afternoon sun.

[Anders]

Anders stood with his arms crossed, left hand scratching the stubble of his chin in thought. The noble before him would indeed make for a good mark. He was angry, and angry people were often careless. That, and his sum of coin was likely higher than the average shopper here. But for the moment, he was flailing his arms about rather violently, moving to and fro in an unpredictable pattern as he shouted with the basket weaver.

Believing it best to wait until the noble departed to intercept him, Anders held his position, pretending to survey the handiwork of the baskets before him, allowing himself to become somewhat of a calm eye in a storm of noise and motion that was the crowd around him. He remained alert and aware of what he could see of his surroundings, knowing that the noble could depart at any time, and that he would need to know the best approach beforehand.

From amidst the chaos a dog came running at Anders, leash lolling along behind it, having escaped from its master, a young girl who was running after it, yelling angrily for it to hold still. Anders took a small step to the side, and watched the dog run past him, changing his point of view just enough to see something glimmering in the sunlight in the corner of his eye, a silvery gleam sliding towards him...

Instinct put him into action with startling speed as Anders turned quickly, grabbing at the arm that held the knife with his near hand, getting a firm hold on a wrist. His other hand immediately went to the hilt of the skinning knife tucked away at his belt, but as he turned and surveyed the person sneaking up on him, he refrained from drawing the blade.

He remembered her by her eyes. One of the people he'd picked out of the crowd as a potential mark. He'd passed her over on the basis that she was likely a quick one, and that she didn't look like one who carried frivolous amounts of coin. Now he knew why. Anders released a bit of pent up air, loosening his grip on her arm. If she had been someone from his past, coming to bring retribution for his earlier deeds, he would have remembered her. Eyes like that would not have been forgotten easily.

"Unlucky," Anders said with a bit of a smile, releasing the girl's arm altogether. "I never would have seen you coming if not for that dog."

He glanced around, to ensure that no one was listening too closely. They hadn't caused much of a scene. Both of them were good at keeping things subtle, after all.

"I suppose that was to be some kind of message, right? For my intrusion into your hunting grounds?"

It was a safe assumption. Why else would a thief target another thief, if not to send a message. Thieves knew each others tricks, and were naturally more difficult marks. And Anders was certainly still a newcomer to the world of thievery in Marn. It was inevitable that he'd step on a few toes at some point.

[Sindaria]

Sindaria gasped slightly with surprise as the stranger managed to cease her arm before she had a chance to fully retract it. His reflexes were obviously those of a trained thief - it had been years since anyone had managed to catch her in the act of purse-cutting. His grasp was firm, but not hostile, and it was only another moment before he released her.

"Unlucky," he said with a bit of a smile. "I never would have seen you coming if not for that dog." Though the statement was undoubtedly intended to smooth over the momentary "misunderstanding" that had resulted from the collision of these two very moveable objects, the transfer of momentum from Sindaria's side to his aggravated the young woman. It was with a practiced demeanor however, that she hid this fact as the man continued.

"I suppose that was to be some sort of message, right? For my intrusion into your hunting grounds?" Sindaria wobbled her head in a noncommital action that gave her time to think, while not exactly confirming or denying his hypothesis. He seemed bigger and more physically imposing, now that she was close upon him, and her fey-granted senses were heightened by the sudden onslaught of anger and anxiety to the point where she could almost feel the disturbance in the air caused by the slow, undisturbed expansion and collapse of his ribcage as he breathed.

"I don't believe in messages, stranger," Sin replied quietly. "They have a habit of getting the messenger killed in Marn," she added. Almost as an afterthought, she added, "You can't be from here."

[Anders]

Anders found her to be surprisingly calm for having just been caught trying to steal from an armed man. Perhaps they were both unusually calm at the moment. Anders crossed his arms while the young woman explained her (correct) belief that he wasn't a local.

"And why not?" Anders said, maintaining his small smile. "Because I haven't killed the messenger yet?"

He didn't really expect an answer to that. Nor did he expect her to believe he really was from Marn. Traces of his homeland's accent still lingered. He was quick to adapt, having trained at altering his accent depending on region when he was younger, but it was still a time-consuming process, and the difference between Thar Shaddin and Corezo was much bigger than the difference between two mere provinces of his homeland.

It had been an evasive question. Anders certainly didn't wish to speak about his past. Certainly not here. And certainly not to a stranger. Too many eyes and ears, too many unknowns. The fact that he was just standing here still, talking to someone in the middle of a busy marketplace, put him on edge a little. He needed to be moving on, his instincts told him, but what to do about this girl?

"So what now?" he asked her calmly. "Live and let live? I've just about had my fill. I was going to go for a hunt, actually. Get away from the city, stretch my legs, all that."

She'd really only be a problem if she wanted some kind of retribution from him, both for taking her spoils and for catching her in the act of taking them back. Otherwise, he saw no problem with allowing their little misunderstanding to fade from memory.

"Oh, and it's Liam, by the way. Liam Anders."

No harm in a name, right? It wasn't like it was the same one he used before...

[Sindaria]

"No doubt you've had your fill," Sindaria began matter-of-factly, "it being market day, but you've deprived me of my day's living. Surely, such a ... gentleman ... is willing to compensate me for my loss before he disappears into the woods for what I assume will be an altogether different sort of hunt?" She kept her voice low and even as she spoke, quickly glancing from side to side to search for accomplices who could make her current situation even more difficult should this exchange deteriorate into a physical altercation.

"Tis only common courtesy, after all, among hunters," Sindaria finished, turning up the corners of her mouth slightly as she once again made eye contact with the man in front of her. She didn't read hostility in those eyes, merely amusement, or perhaps, dismissal. Perhaps the man's overconfidence was the only advantage she currently had - but how to use it to her advantage?

She could sense the flow of human traffic around her, and was aware without looking that a mere giant step or two off to her right would carry her off in a tide of people that the bigger man would find harder to navigate, giving her ample opportunity to escape. Once again the size of the man's purse weighed heavily on Sindaria's mind. Did she have enough time to simply snatch it and run? When was the last time she'd seen a member of the city watch?

[Anders]

He was starting to like this one. She was using somewhat feminine wiles on him, throwing gender roles into the mix, and Anders had to admit, it was working. This was merely a hobby of sorts for him, whereas it was likely how this girl got by from day to day. Anders liked to think of himself as something of a gentleman.

And she certainly wasn't hard on the eyes. That was likely helping her cause somewhat.

Still, Anders wasn't just lowering his guard to the girl because of a pretty face and a pull at his gentlemanly strings. She was still a thief, and as she had made clear, a lifelong one. This was her living. He was still in a very crowded marketplace, a location in which her size, or lack thereof, would serve her well. Quickly navigating through large masses of moving people was no easy task. If it came to a chase of some kind, she'd likely have the upper hand on him. She was small and likely quite quick, and she undoubtedly knew the area better than he, having lived here much longer.

Anders maintained his small smile. The encounter was proving to be an interesting change of pace, for once. He was enjoying himself.

"I suppose a hunter who plays for sport shouldn't keep all the spoils for himself, should he? Couldn't hurt to throw a few fish back into the sea."

She would get the metaphor, right? Anders wasn't sure. Was there a large fishing population in or near Marn? Ugh. It seemed a simple enough metaphor, even if one didn't quite have firsthand experience with it.

Anders withdrew a small bag of coins he'd picked from his satchel, tossing it slightly in one of his hands before deftly slipping it into the bag of a passing woman. She walked on without noticing. He withdrew a second pouch, slipping it into the pocket of the disgruntled noble from earlier as he passed by once more. Withdrawing a third and slightly larger bag of coins, Anders tossed it up and down slightly in his right hand, his amused smile widening slightly.

"You wouldn't want me to just hand you everything, right? Where's the fun in that? And you haven't told me your name yet. If it's as pretty as you are, I might be willing to part with this one. Maybe."

[Sindaria]

To say that the other thief's response was a surprise would be an understatement. Truthfully, it was the first time any fellow cutpurse had pleasantly surprised Sindaria in several years, and were it not for her pure dumbfoundedness in that moment, she might have burst out into a peal of delighted laughter as the man skillfully slipped his stolen goods back into the unsuspecting arms of his most recent victims. As it was, it took several seconds to understand what was going on, despite the accompanying narrative, and Sin's urge to laugh was quickly quashed by the last minute miscalculation on the part of the man in demanding her name.

Name? Surely he was smarter than that. Names held a power that even Sindaria was scared of, and her run-in with the fey many years ago had taught her that this power was not to be made light of or dire consequence would follow. Still, the stanger was holding a rather large bag of coin that Sin was keen to take possession of, so with only the slightest of pauses, which she hoped would be taken as honest indecision, she drew breath to pronounce one of her less common aliases. In the moment of her exhalation, however, the muscles of her mouth contorted as if possessed, to produce the hitherto unused pseudonym of "Catlyn."

The hairs on the back of Sindaria's neck rose, and palms which were smooth and dry moments before dampened with the perspiration of a nervous sweat. What use did a different name serve for the purposes of her spurned Fey lover's curse? Was the man or the purse before her a threat? She could feel her stomach souring and the lie hung in the air between them. Why in gods' names had Catlyn's name come to her lips?

[Anders]

Anders stopped tossing the bag of coins, his smile shrinking slightly.

That was just weird. All of it. It was understandable that she would take a moment to decide whether or not to relinquish a name to him. She was a law-breaker like him, after all, and giving out names to new acquaintances certainly wasn't a very healthy thing to do all the time. It wasn't like Anders had gone around telling his name to everyone while on assignments back home.

But between her strange sort of spasm while saying the name, and the name itself, Anders found himself caught slightly off-guard. She herself seemed somewhat surprised at the name, though she did well to hide it. Still, a genuine moment of surprise was a very difficult thing to suppress. So she was quite obviously lying to Anders. That part didn't actually bother him that much. He'd technically lied to her as well, though he had given her the name he'd been going by for the past year.

What bothered him more was the name itself. It was a common name, he supposed, but still, it was extremely similar to the name of a woman he'd known once. Someone who had been quite important to him. Someone who was actually his reason for being here. For being alive.

Maybe he was being paranoid, but quite suddenly Anders didn't like any of this. The crowded market, the masses of people, the loud noises. His eyes darted about for a brief moment, searching for any sign of threat. There were too many places to disappear. And then there was this girl, Catlyn as she'd introduced herself. What to do with her? Was she with them? Or perhaps just an innocent girl sent to deliver a message in this odd manner? Anders understood that it was getting far-fetched, but he didn't feel like taking chances anymore today.

His gaze fixed on her calmly and seriously, his former amused look fading almost entirely. The bag of coins he swiftly returned to the pouch. He'd all but forgotten of his offer to exchange them for her name.

"So what's the meaning of this?" he asked coolly, though the urgency of the question was apparent. "Did someone tell you to say that? I need to know if they did. I won't hurt you."

Well, that was true only if she really wasn't affiliated with them. But she didn't need to know that. Anders hoped his rather direct questions would get to the bottom of this. From her introduction, she didn't seem like the best of liars to him. Perhaps he'd catch her in another one.

[Sindaria]

Immediately, Sindaria knew she was in trouble, for the face of the man facing her clouded over like the summer sun in the face of a sudden, fleetly-moving thunderstorm. Obviously, the name Catlyn held some significance to him, as it almost had to if it was truly the result of her fey-cursed tongue, but what that significance was was hard to guess. Was Catlyn a former lover, a friend and ally, or a despised enemy? There was little time to ponder an answer, as the man who called himself Liam was already demanding that she confess the wellspring of her alias - showing that he, like she, knew it to be a fabrication.

Sin's breath grew shallowed and her nostrils flared slightly with each inhalation, like a cornered animal, as she tried to come up with the kind of explanation that would both delay the man's fury, and feed her more information as to why such a name would cause him concern.

"There's no meaning, sir," she lied, "unless you are a superstitious spinster in the guise of a grown man." Sindaria swallowed, despite the dryness of her mouth. "I merely succumbed to the sudden sensation we were being watched while trying to give you my true name. I have had problems, in the past, with ...." Sindaria left the last words unspoken, assuming that Liam would know of whom she spoke.

Almost as if the mere suggestion of government spies might call forth their repressive presence, Sin was suddenly more alertly on her guard to the press of persons around them. This, certainly, was no private audience she was having with the man who'd come to rob her of her earnings for the morning. Yet, something about him made her wish that it was. Even in these moments of stern sobriety, there was a kind of dependable gravity to his presence that anchored her to the cobbled stones beneath their feet. Liam had a story, and Sin was well aware that she wanted to find out what that story was.

[Anders]

The situation was tearing at him, for a few reasons.

He was fairly certain that his paranoia was playing some role in this. He understood himself to be a paranoid individual; he embraced it. Caution would keep him alive. But this couldn't all be a fabrication of his mind, could it?

He didn't trust the girl, not in the slightest. She was upfront about her criminal profession after being caught, which of course identified as one who commonly lied. Therefore, Anders wasn't inclined to believe a word of what she said. But if she too felt they were being watched, there must be some kind of merit to his apprehension...

And if she had truly had problems in the past with...no, the odds of that were pretty low, especially if she was a local as she claimed. Marn was quite isolated from the world, as was his former home before he left.

But Anders was well beyond shrugging this off as a coincidence. If there was something at work here, some force seeking to root him out of his year-long hiding place, Anders was going to find it, and deal with it. Perhaps it would grant him some peace of mind.

Anders appeared to relax ever so slightly, though he was merely trying to restrain his serious look he'd given her. It wouldn't do to appear worried at the moment. Still, he didn't regain his former amusement.

"I think we can both agree that there's too many eyes here," Anders said calmly. "Know anywhere nearby we can discuss away from crowds?"

His eyes periodically swung about the crowd around them, searching for prying pairs of eyes, or possible threats. He was suddenly rather glad that he'd brought his bow along with him. While he wasn't likely to shoot it through a bustling crowd, it could likely prove useful for defense when they got away from this mess.

"I don't mean you any harm," he repeated, trying to reassure her. The worst outcome would be for her to run from him. Then he'd be lost, unable to decipher any of this. And if she too was on the run from a group, he'd likely be willing to help. An ally was a good thing to have when one was faced with unknown enemies.

[Sindaria]

Sindaria hesitated. There were more than a few places she knew of nearby where they would be able to more freely converse, but she wasn't really sure yet whether or not she wanted to. She'd made enough mistakes in judging character in her day to be wary of the "trustworthy" signals she was reading off of him. Sure, he didn't seem to be lying, but the fact that the fey curse was interfering in her interactions with him left her skittish. Still, her cat-like curiosity was itching to know why he would react so strangely to the name "Catlyn." She could smell a story there, and the truth was, life had been so boring lately that the promise of a good story was almost enough to make her override her feelings of hesitation. Almost.

Still undecided, Sin decided that what was needed in this situation was some motion - some distance put between his question and her response. If she continued to feel uneasy with the notion of this stranger at her back, she would lose him in the crowd, but if the nervous tension eased with their transition from standing to striding, she would accept him as a temporary confidant and reap what stories she could from him. News from beyond the city gates perhaps. Rumors. New strategies.

"Follow me," she said softly, glancing once more upon his face in an attempt to read any ill intent. She took in nothing. Sindaria had no intention of looking back once started through the push of the crowd - he would either keep up, or be left behind. Her size gave her some advantage as she weaved her way in and out of the streams of people flowing through the market's central intersection, but she did not take her route at speed. She relied, at least temporarily, on her fey-quickened reflexes to shield her should the man she'd invited to follow her decided to draw a dagger and rob his would-be robber. She kept her walking weight on the balls of her feet, ready to turn, duck, or tumble as circumstance demanded in the coming minutes.

At first, she traveled without an intended destination, and even looped broadly back in the direction they'd started out from, still ignoring the presence or absence of the man who called himself Liam. Finally, however, her mind settled on a back alley near the stoneworker's guild hall. It was shadowy, quiet, and generally devoid of people, but featured a rowan tree Sin had climbed thousands of times in her lifetime - a tree whose upper branches led to the rooftops, but was unable to support an adult who weighed much more than she did. When she finally reached the base of the tree, she stopped and turned around, uncertain whether or not she wanted to see the face of the man who had asked her to come there.

[Anders]

Anders nodded silently at her command to follow, allowing her to take the lead, and even letting her get some distance on him. Not that she needed any help. She was a small thing, good at weaving through masses of people. Still, Anders was able to keep an eye on her as he followed about ten feet or so behind. She would disappear momentarily, only to reappear a second later, after a passerby had moved.

He noted that she was taking an unnecessarily long route to her destination, as they passed close by to where they had just been speaking. He approved of her caution. Such a route was likely to lose pursuers, especially if they were looking for her. She was a hard one to track. Anders followed, his relaxed gait and gentle uses of force to clear his path when necessary a stark contrast to her near cat-like movement, weaving through the crowd, always light on her feet. She knew how to play to her strengths, he thought to himself.

At last, Anders watched as the girl slipped into an alley near the stoneworker's guild hall. He followed perhaps thirty seconds later, to find a quiet, shadowy place leading to an old rowan tree, with his new acquaintance standing at the base, waiting for him.

He approved of her meeting place. The presence of the tree was somewhat...soothing. This place didn't have enough trees, he decided. All the open land beyond the city limits made him feel too exposed upon leaving the city. This place was calm and quiet. He could see himself returning here often in the future.

Feeling somewhat calmer already, Anders regained something of his former cheery attitude as he spoke to the girl again.

"In hindsight, I think we got off on the wrong foot out there," he said, "so perhaps we should start again? I'm Liam Anders. I usually just go by Anders around here."

He offered her a quick bow of greeting accompanied by a small smile before returning to his full height.

"And I don't think I caught your name in all the noise of the crowd. You are...?"

He was obviously fishing for another name, though at this point he didn't really care if she gave him her real name or not. He hadn't given her his, after all. He just wanted a word to go with her face. And he wasn't going to call her Catlyn, as she had said first. He would get to that soon.

[Sindaria]

"I'm ... I'm ... I'm not sure I can say," Sindaria replied in a moment of unguarded honesty, unwilling to test the limits of the enchantment once again. She could feel the color rising in her face as the weight of this admission made itself felt. It was clear that this "Liam Anders" meant her no harm in the here and now, but she was uncertain that his patience would withstand the onslaught of her involuntary verbal evasion. She took several deep breaths, hoping they would help cool the heat on her cheeks.

In the moment of silence that followed, Sindaria had time to consider the meaning of the fact that Liam Anders was indeed standing in front of her after their convoluted excursion through the market square. He'd even had the good sense to give pause before following her into the rowan's alley, making it unlikely that any observers would make the connection between she and he were they being watched. It seemed, at least for the moment, that it was safe to talk, but was it wise?

"I truly am cursed," she muttered to herself as she weighed her options, one hand casually rested on the lowest hanging branch of the tree beside her. Second guessing herself again, she removed it, and made a small curtsy before Anders.

"I've been in the city a few years now, and have seldom met a stranger who hasn't foreboded ill fortune, so you'll forgive me if I'm a bit short with you. You'd do me a service in warning me what sort of ill fortune your company carries with it, and in return, I could tell you something of my own troubles ... if you truly are the man you seem, Anders."