Seamus leaned back in his chair. The underground bar around them was dimly lit, filled with pipe smoke. They were seated at the booth where the yellow flickering light cast long shadows. It was the perfect place for someone to go unnoticed if they wanted but offered a clear view of all the exits.
Aeron tapped his fingers on the table, only now noticing the tactical seating Seamus had picked. “So, who’s your patreon this time? Or is it something you’re not at liberty to discuss?”
Seamus smiled as Beathag brought them a new round of drinks. He waited until the barmaid was out of earshot to reply: “Just a client poking around to find something that probably do them any good. Nothing illegal, nothing too dangerous.” He watched as people entered, none matching the description of his query.
Aeron leaned forward: “I was under the impression I was going on a drink with an old friend, not another one of your stakeouts. Or is that how you define ‘fun’ these days?”
Seamus took a long, slow sip before replying in a casual tone. “Didn’t say I wasn’t working, either. But who says we couldn’t enjoy ourselves?”
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“Who are we waiting for then?”
Seamus glanced at his pocket watch. “I honestly don’t know yet. Just a description: an elf with black hair and a blue dress. We got to watch out for robins. My client is interested, so here I am.”
Aeron swirled his glass in front of his face, acting as if inspecting the swirling liquid as he scanned the room. “Robins, huh? They are a rare species around here. I think I’ve seen them as a symbol somewhere recently... I just can’t place it.” The bar was growing louder, the clink of glasses and murmur of conversations, a low hum that filled the space. Seamus’s gaze drifted to the entrance, but the elf that stepped in was just another regular, not the one they were waiting for.
Seamus offered a nonchalant shrug. “Maybe you’ll remember before this is all over. In the meantime, just lend me your eyes for a couple of minutes and…” He took his pint and held it in front of his face, obscuring half of it. “Look.”
A slender elven woman walked in, her long velvet hair cascading down her back, a blue bias-cut dress hugged her like a second skin. She had a small tattoo on her ankle, two red birds in a fight. Her stride seemed purposeful as she walked to the bar. She whispered something to a blond druid, who pointed at the back door. Without a word, she slipped through it, leaving Seamus and Aeron to watch her disappear into the shadows.