Seamus leaned back in his chair. The underground bar around them was dimly lit, filled with pipe smoke. Yellow candlelight and blue orblight danced long, flickering shadows. The booth was a good place for someone to go unnoticed while offering a clear view of all the exits.
Aeron tapped his fingers on the table. He now noticed 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, trying to match them with 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 sip before replying in a casual tone. “Didn’t say I wasn’t working, either. But who says we couldn’t enjoy ourselves?”
“Who are we waiting for then?”
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Seamus glanced at his pocket watch. “I honestly don’t know. Only a description: an elf with black hair and a blue dress. It has to do something with robins. My client is interested, so here I am.”
Aeron swirled his glass in front of his face, as if he was inspecting the swirling liquid as he scanned the room. “Robins, huh? They are not a common species around here. So maybe a foreigner?” The bar was growing louder, the clink of glasses and murmur of conversations, a low hum filled the space. Their gaze drifted from the main entrance to the two side doors, and back. An elf walked in, chaperoned by a regal olive-skinned dryad. “Green pantsuit, just another regular.” Aeron Wisperd. Contrary to what he had complained, he had secretly liked it when Seamus took him on stakeouts. Trying to be more helpful, he said: “I think I’ve seen a couple of robins as a symbol somewhere recently... I just can’t place it.”
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 raised it in front of his face, taking a long, slow sip, a more efficient attempt than Aeron’s to hide. “Look”, he whispered in his cup.
A slender elven woman walked in, her long velvet hair cascading down her back, face obscured by a wide-brimmed hat, a blue bias-cut dress hugged her like a second skin. She had a tattoo on her ankle, two red birds in a fight.
The elven woman’s stride seemed purposeful as she walked to the bar. She whispered something to a blond druid sitting on the furthest stool. He pointed at the back door. Without saying another word, she slipped through, leaving Seamus and Aeron to watch her disappear into the shadows.
