Joseph
In the mind of Victoria, there were few better ways to spend a day than performing, especially when those around her paid well. Really, the only thing better than a full day performing was a half-day that made her a purse full of coin. That was the case today, and she was most content. There was a distinct spring in her step, the heels of her boots clicking against cobblestone in an even staccato as she moved. The woman's spine was straight, head lifted to take in the streets around her. This, she thought, was among the most pleasant of places one could spend an afternoon. She'd spent the better part of the day indoors, moving between taverns. Really, she'd only left because she was quite certain that she'd somewhat overstayed her welcome. Something like guilt at not staying out longer gnawed at her, but she had elected to ignore it. It wasn't as she was short on money. At least not right now... It wasn't as if there was any good money to be made from standing on street corners. At least not enough to justify how unpleasant it would be to stand out there for the rest of the day.

There was enough life here to make up for the fact that this square was one she crossed nearly every day. Had her sense of direction and general awareness been any poorer, she would have perhaps thought this square to be different each time she set foot here. Even if it had been dull and wretched, the feeling of the sun on her back would have just about made up for it anyway. Today, Vix was not headed toward home, at least not directly. No, instead, she was taking a meandering path through the square and streets, taking up as much time as she possibly could. Her eyes were fixed on her surroundings, head tilted half up, though careful not to lock eyes with any one person. Her ears, which had morphed into a strange mix between humanoid and something covered in short, dark fur, had rotated forward.

She was certainly a beastwalker of some sort, though it was more than likely quite difficult to tell what species. 

The rest of Vix's posture was just a bit strange, at least for one who was walking. Her left hand was on the strap of fabric slung over her back. This was part of the cloth contraption holding her violin to her back. This sling seemed to have been held together with knots rather than stitching. This contraption was almost jarringly shabby in contrast to the rest of her. Her clothing looked rather new, and was more than likely colorful enough to make her stand out. At the very least her clothing was far more noticeable than her rather shoddy lute case. Her dress was the most colorful thing, enough so that it was perhaps a bit much to look at. The bodice and sleeves, which reached her elbows were a rather bright shade of red-orange, fitted to her frame but not skin-tight. The skirt was a rather heavy-looking layered thing, half in that same red-orange and half in an orange-yellow. Her boots, which could be partly seen beneath her skirts, were laced with orange ribbon, ribbon that matched the one holding her hair back into a braid. A leather belt, one wrapped with a red scarf, as if to disguise it, was fastened around her waist, a small fabric coin purse hung from it, partially obscured. There was nothing about her appearance that suggested subtlety, in fact, it seemed every bit of it had been designed to draw eyes.
Ruben
*Of all the cities he had visited in his career as a courier, Varilon was hardly unique. Many cities had their walls and fortifications, their squares and alleys - and so too did the capital of Alynthi. What made it stand out was the simple size of it. Even Ardunon, a massive city compared to Slydenn and Carnifex, paled in comparison to the sheer scale of the bustling streets and stonework walls.

He supposed that it was the consequence of having a good deal of people around - in Gantrick, it had been far too cold for a long growing season, and the cities tended to be smaller, more compact, easier to feed. In Findara, they were concentrated mostly along the coast, Ardunon included, and smelled sometimes of fish if one wandered too near the docks. 

The worn stones of Varilon were earthier, the people different. Friendlier in some ways, more guarded in others. Banners hung above the shops and squares, fluttering in the breeze. The black stag on the golden field. More than he had ever seen. Every once in a while, above a doorframe, there was an iron stag hung. Much more rarely, he spotted two. Above the entrance of one smithy near the square, three wrought-iron figures stood guard in solemn remembrance.

The company was pleasant, and he did business enough in Varilon that a vague acknowledgement sometimes made its way to his ears. Like clockwork, the coins made their way into his pockets, and he could usually find his directions by asking if he did not know the way. Yet when his deliveries were said and done, and he was headed back to the wayshrine, he paused for a moment to take in a deep breath, moving through the city towards a row of bakeries in a nearby square.*

_ _
*Though as always, he had to remember to keep his guard up. Places that seemed friendly enough could be the most dangerous. A false sense of security killed just as easily as a knife, and sometimes more quickly. Eyes of cloudy gray-blue began to sweep the crowd once again as the golden-haired courier continued his sauntering through the city, oaken walking stick tapping on the pavers as he went.

Posture. 

The first indication that someone was up to a different task than the general crowd was a change in posture. The shape of the brightly colored woman that drew his eyes had been the first clue, and the eye-popping dyes the second. His gaze lingered for a moment, trying to see if she was searching for something. It didn't appear so - a hunter would have been referring back to a fixed position for their quarry - but her habits suggested she was on the lookout.

A cloth contraption on her back holding... Something within it. A lute case? Perhaps a musician. He was intrigued enough. At the very least, he would be able to request a song or two from the woman, and spend a penny for some enjoyment. Through the crowd he began to maneuver, forging a path towards the performer. Under the folds of his gray peddler's cloak, a little spider materialized. It was no time to be foolish - often traps were baited with something harmless. 

The tiny arachnid crawled its way up to his neck, settling just on the back of his collar to look out for danger. Its vision, combined with Niles's, gave advance warning as he reached the performer, half-stumbling on the first step in order to seem less coordinated. People liked a bit of a bumbler. Bumblers were relatable.*

"Excuse me, miss?" *He called briefly to Victoria, cupping one hand to be heard.* "Are you a musician?"
Joseph
Vix's attention had been captured, though not by the one who had noticed her. There was no shortage of vendors here, and though there was more than likely a shortage of quality goods, a cart of fruit had caught her eye. This was something rather hard to fake the quality of, Vix thought, and she was more than capable of determining if she was being overcharged... The woman had taken exactly two steps in the direction of this halfway enticing target when something just a bit less interesting stumbled into her path.

A man. Young, unless he was using some sort of magic to hide his age, or he was of the sort that didn't look his age. The walking stick in his hand was interesting. Was it necessary? Or cosmetic? Really, she did want to know, even if it was none of her business. Vix's eyes quickly refocused on Niles' face. It was best not to give others the impression that they were being examined.

"No, I'm a shoemaker."

It was a stupid question, she thought, and Vix provided what she thought was a suitably stupid answer. He'd come up from behind her, he could certainly see the rather obviously violin-shaped case strapped to her back. She let this statement hang in the air for a moment, face held in a blank deadpan. A closer look at her features perhaps provided some sort of insight into exactly what sort of beastwalker she was. Her dark eyes were quite round, and were circled by white makeup, framed at the edges with yellow-gold that nearly matched her skirt. Her eyes were the only part of her face that didn't seem to be made of harsh angles. 

A long moment passed, and Vix's face split into a smile. Perhaps her exceptionally pleasant mood was not shared, and this teasing would not be appreciated. However, it wasn't as if it would be all too huge a loss anyway, should have have decided to take issue with her.

"Yes, I am a musician. Are you from the tavern back there?"

Her posture loosened, weight shifting to her left foot. She lifted her left hand, gesturing vaguely back toward the street she'd come from. Her smile remained. Fluidly, as her left moved, her right hand settled on her hip, over her coin purse. Her statement was intentionally vague in terms of location. She'd been to several taverns already, but was almost certain she had not seen this man. She wanted to see if he would lie. She wasn't often stopped on the street, but it wasn't completely unheard of. However, a busy place was prime territory for thieves, and a friendly man was a perfect distraction.
Ruben
*The eyes.

They were active, as he might have thought they'd be - and they lingered on the walking stick. It was funny how the most innocuous objects could be the source of scrutiny when one knew what they were doing. Whether she was wary from having seen one too many 'lame' beggars or had some knowledge of just how many enchantments could be placed on a piece of wood, she had some sense about her.

She at first seemed a little unpleasant - but there was a break in the clouds, and a sense of humor shone through. Dramatic effect. Performers were often good at building tension, and from the looks of her, she performed indeed. White makeup around the eyes gave an almost unnatural ring to the deadpan stare she had leveled at him, even if the yellow-gold accents helped soothe the edges.

Best to be unfazed, he thought - if he were to recover too quickly from being cowed by the deadpan stare, a little too much light was cast on the fact that it was an act. So his friendly smile remained in place as he waited her out, continuing unbroken into a joke of his own.*

"I *Thought* That was a funny-looking shoebox." *He let a laugh escape him for a moment.* "No, I'm not from any tavern - I spotted the... Shoebox, and just figured there were a few too many stags in my pocket for me not to request a song or two, if you don't mind."

*Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the movements of her hands. Settling on her hips to cover a coin purse, one free to gesture or swing if needed. Good stuff, generally. Maybe she knew her way around the street well enough. If he'd been a common thief, the hike in difficulty of robbing her would have been significant. Fortunately enough, he wasn't pickpocketing today. He did bookmark the thought for later, though. It never hurt to get back into practice when you were out of the game for a little while.*

_ _
"I don't suppose you know 'The Shore, the Shore'?" *He asked. He had been putting on a Findaran accent for so many years now that it came natural to him - while Findarans were relatively common in Alynthi as visitors, he still stood out a bit from the crowd.* "I haven't heard a good rendition in a while."
Joseph
Humor was always a risk. Here, however, the consequence associated with utter failure was almost nothing. That more than made up for the fact that the opportunity for reward was similarly slim. This one seemed pleasant enough, even if he hadn't given her much of a reaction, though that too had been offset by the sound of the laugh. It seemed genuine enough.

The performance continued.

"Suspiciously violin shaped, I'd say!"

Her smile widened, lips parting to show off her teeth. If one had by some miracle managed to avoid noticing the rest of her rather beastly features, or if assumptions had been made based on those ears of hers, said teeth could perhaps seems quite strange. The canines especially were exceptionally pronounced, though not especially sharp.

Vix reached back. Wrapping a hand around the neck of her violin case and tugging it around her body. It wasn't the most graceful action, but she didn't want to simply release the knot holding the slingtogether and launch the violin into the ground. The case was quite a sturdy thing, but it was still a very stupid risk. Opening a case to a broken violin was not something one could recover from.

"Certainly!"

The woman was holding her violin and case balanced on one arm, using the other to pull the instrument and bow free. She was still looking at Niles, though her mind had slipped elsewhere. 'The Shore, the Shore'? That title was incredibly familiar. She'd heard it before. Now she just needed to find the tune. A folk song, maybe? The sort of thing that she would have learned as a child, when she was just learning how to play? Or maybe it was regional? His accent was a good place to start. It wasn't Alynthi. Findaran, probably. Her eyes narrowed briefly, followed by a blink. The smile, which had faltered slightly, reappared.

"Hum a line for me, would you? I'd much like to hear what rendition you know!"

Once the instrument was free, Vix briefly stooped, bending at the knees, to place it on the ground. In the same motion, violin and bow held in one hand, she rid herself of her sling, setting it spooled atop the case. She then stood, swinging the instrument up to her left shoulder, and raising her bow. Her posture twisted slightly, right hip rotated inward, toward Niles. Trust was something one did not afford to a crowd. At least now she could at least pretend to watch her purse out of her peripheral.
Ruben
*Oh, this was beginning to be fun. Practicing sheepishness was no trouble at all when he was able to muster up the lack of talent in signing all by himself. Ethan Pedron the courier and Niles the spy had that in common, of course - there was no faking a singing voice unless you had one in the first place, and the gods had not seen fit to grant one to him.

He had registered that she was a beastwalker like him almost too quickly to be noticed - but the fangs put him somewhere towards the target on what sort of animal she could shift into. The ears were mammal, to be sure, but there were lots of furry ears in the animal kingdom. The shape was familiar - and the fangs were beginning to paint a picture. A fox was his first guess, though he knew of no foxes that were quite that dark in color...*

"Well, don't get too excited for me. I'm not a singer myself, but this is roughly how it goes." *He cleared his throat, a grin covering his embarrassment as he began to strike up a chorus. He'd heard this song in most taverns in Ardunon at one point or another. A flat sort of baritone came from his throat as he buckled down to the song. His cheeks were beginning to flush pink. The best sort of lie was one you did not have to fabricate.*

"The shore, the shore,
To the shore we go,
And when we talk,
Of you we'll know,
To the shore you go,
From the shore you leave,
And my words,
Remember me..."

*It was the chorus of a series of verses covering the islands that dotted the Findaran coast. The song itself spoke of a love waiting on an island, a love that left from the shore, of the wine-dark sea, the white sand beaches, and the snow-capped mountains that rose behind them. There were many things he had come to enjoy about Findara and many he had come to hate, but it was difficult not to enjoy the music.*

_ _ 
*Of course, as a sheepish courier (and maybe a sheepish spy) would, Niles stopped as the verse ended, casting a hopeful glance in the direction of Victoria. His coin was good, of course, but it wasn't of much help unless she knew the tune. Musicians, no matter how good they were, were not superhuman, and this one's knowledge could never be completely encyclopedic.*

"You would know that one, right?"
Joseph
Was she still being examined?

He had quick eyes, she thought. That was the best way to describe them. She did appreciate that they did not linger as the eyes of some did. However, she was not sure it set her at ease. She settled back, lifting her chin from her violin and closing her lips back over her teeth. She was still smiling, head now held at a tilt. Her gaze held his, 

"Well, neither am I! I shan't be judging you!"

Vix leaned back on her right leg, pressing her weight into her heel. There was something about encouraging others like this, especially when they were more than likely to be rather terrible, that was exceptionally entertaining. She didn't even need to fake her smile. 

The smile only grew as he sang. Really, he wasn't bad, and she was in no place to judge. Her fingers were moving across the fingerboard, though the bow of her violin sat at her side. Ah! This was familiar. Her time in the orchestra had made it so. She'd played it once or twice, she thought, though she hadn't performed it. It was the sort of thing she'd learned for the fun of it, for the sort of evenings spent sitting in an inn with those she had only music in common with.

"Would I? Under different circumstances, no. Under these ones, I certainly do!"

Speaking nonsense was enjoyable. It typically made people shut up, ponder, and listen to her perform. Once the words had left her lips, Vix gave a flourish of her bow, another smile, this one tight-lipped and restrained. Her bow hesitated, hovering above her strings for a moment. 

"By the way, you really do have quite a lovely voice!"

Perhaps *He* Could be goaded into further performance. Most people thrived on praise. If such a person was paying her and could be made to feel at ease, quite convenient. It was already established she was skilled, and most who stopped her, believing her so competent, did not take much to be convinced that she was not only talented in music, but also in detecting talent.

The grin grew back to toothy, and Vix set about playing. It took her a second to find her stride, brows briefly furrowing and ears flicking forward, toward the violin. Once she found it however, the tune was quite the same as Niles' had sang, minus that bit of flatness. Her instrument was well-tuned, and her ear and memory were good. Her playing was not, however, utterly faithful to the written note. 

There were quite a few little grace notes and flourishes added, though the melody remained the same. Vix was fairly certain she was in something approaching the right key. At least it was recognizable, most certainly. Recognizable, and entertaining enough to earn a few coins.
Ruben
*She was a fountain of jokes, this one. Guarded in her mannerisms still. There was nothing too out of the ordinary about her that he had seen. The bright, colorful garb was a common trait of most bards, the garb designed to attract attention. Those that lived on coin tossed their way by the public had more often than not gone hungry at some point, and those that went hungry guarded their coins well. 

Yet he wondered if the life of a bard would be another ideal cover for a spy. Clearly, the woman had the trappings of a musician, and a musical talent of some kind was needed in order to make it work. Bards could travel anywhere. They were employed on the street if they wished, and in high council chambers if they had the right connections. They never had to stay in one place, never needed a set home. Their songs themselves could be messages. She seemed clever enough.*

"Oh, and here I thought you were halfway musical." *He joked back, leaning on his walking stick with one hand as he prepared to listen to the performance. The instrument was likely her source of income, and for those who could not sing, dancing or playing was a steady recourse. But it was likely flattery for coin - and in the spirit of being a paying customer, he reached for the purse at his belt to open the drawstrings once she made a crack and played the beginnings of the tune.

His fingers froze halfway to the opening as his eyes widened in disbelief. This woman was trying to get him to sing? That was rather unfortunate. Even worse, she was trying to **Needle** Him into singing. It was not his favorite pastime, that was certain, and... The look on her face was not what he'd thought it might be. She had seemed almost about to force herself to play before the mischievous grin had come over her face. What was that about, he wondered?*

_ _
*The pieces clicked into place one after another. Performing for one person was not a good use of time. It made very little money. Two people performing together drew more attention, and made her seem more endearing by interacting with the crowd. There was no downside for her if he sang along, even if there was very little musical merit to his voice. Perhaps she'd get a chorus from a crowd. He had to respect the social engineering at play.*

"Well..." *He cleared his throat once more, unsure of himself. She had practically done him a favor by agreeing to his request for no guarantee of payment. He could do one for her.* "Look, I know I'm not good, but if you think it'll help, I might as well give a shout. Just don't, ah, don't expect some kind of Sorevelle level performance."

"Upon the foam, upon the foam cast from the sea,
The one I love, the one I love lays in her sleep,
Please, unruly waves, I beg of thee,
Not to wake her from her dreams.

The shore, the shore..."
Joseph
Vix's posture had slowly untwisted, her right foot now being held back, feet making a sort of square. However, though her posture had opened, she did not seem to be making any further effort to draw eyes. Much of her outfit, namely the skirt, seemed to have quite an excess of fabric, meant to move as she did. However, Vix's posture remained rigid, and she only seemed to be taking up as much space as she absolutely needed in order to perform.

"Well, a halfway decent voice does not a performer make..."

Her smile remained. Slowly, Vix leaned forward, tilting her head toward him. When she spoke, her voice was in a half-whisper, playful, but still strangely impersonal. Her eyes did not linger on his eyes for more than a few seconds at a time, and she maintained just about an arms length and a half between the two. 

"...You should know!"

She leaned back from him, lifting her chin from her violin and giving a rather exaggerated roll of her head, as if she was tossing her hair. Of course, her hair was tied back in a rather tight braid, and hardly moved at all. 

"Oh, don't you worry! You'll be fine! Sang well enough to help *Me*, didn'tcha?"

Vix's attention now turned more sharply to Niles, though she still was watching him from the corner of her eye . There were a few ways to torment him here, but none that would be worth it. No, any meddling with tempo or key would also run the risk of throwing herself off. He'd turned red enough to be amusing the first time she'd made him sing. That alone made some level of needling worthwhile.

Her eyes slid from Niles. There were enough eyes on her that she was not being jostled about, but not so many that she would be expected to keep playing. Good.

It was a shame that she couldn't remember exactly how this song ended. Her fellow performers certainly hadn't sang the whole thing. Or maybe they had? Vix had, somewhat regretfully, had quite a bit to drink that night. The notes had stuck, but the words had not. 

She had decided she was just about done playing, given that the gain was fairly small. Now came the true test. Figuring out how to cue him to cut off. The urge to simply stop playing and see how he handled it was quite strong. However, he still had yet to part with any coin. Would the gain of humiliation be more than that of coin?

*Probably* Not.

Vix waited a moment, for him to approach what sounded like a chorus, slowing as she did, swaying forward and pressing her head and violin downward. It was as clear a cue she could provide without just stopping short. If he continued, that felt like his problem.
Ruben
*A roll of the eyes was all the response he gave to the (admittedly quite clever) crack that the minstrel had thrown at him. It was flattery meant for coin, he told himself, and it was nothing he could ever begin to pay attention to seriously. His voice was bad, he knew that. There was nothing that could change it, least of all a street performer's moves for money.

Still, she played a pretty melody. There was a moment where the thought occurred to him that she was relatively close - but that was a function of the crowd more than anything else, and relatively close only for his comfort. A quick thrust of the knife and step-in could close the distance of arm's reach quickly, especially if the target was distracted. His eyes darted from place to place as he continued to sing.*

"Would that the sea, would that the sea turn into wine,
The mountaintops, the mountaintops to food on which to dine,
The ships to glasses polished to a shine, 
For festivals and crowds of yours and mine."

"The shore, the shore..." *There was a small moment where he caught her studying him almost like a piece of steak on a dinner plate. It was ridiculous, he thought, that he was humiliating himself like this. But anyone who walked by would hardly think that the man being roped into a performance was a spy, nor would they think there was anything purposeful in the furious blush of embarrassment that had come over his face. 

In truth, there **Was** Nothing purposeful in it, but that was rather the point. To show vulnerability was to add to an alibi... That he was not quite doing much to reinforce, given that he was outside of his home base. In that case, all he could wish for was for the song to end. It was one of his favorites, of course, but there was something a good deal different about singing in a crowd versus singing by oneself.*

_ _
*But the music slowed, and with her he too slowed, trying to match pace as the song came to an end. He was no musician, of course, but he managed to drag out the last horrid note of 'dreams' into something dreadfully off-key. He was already uncomfortable - the least he could do was take the facade to such an extent that it might make her ears hurt to listen a little. Petty revenge, of course, but it was what he had at his disposal.

As the song ended, Niles leaned back onto his walking stick, shaking his head ruefully as he reached for his coin purse. That deserved at least three towers, even if it wasn't a pleasant experience for him. After all, he'd been looking for a song, and she'd obliged in masterful fashion.*

"For the song." *He held the three copper coins out, each pressed with the image of the tower of the Mage Hands, a sight familiar to Findarans.* "And for the fact that it ended. You're good, you know." *She had skipped two verses, but he was thankful for that.*
Joseph
It took everything within Vix to keep her smile from growing too wide, to keep herself from breaking into a laugh. It was one thing to be made to feel foolish by a performer, and another to be directly laughed at. No, the two of them could separately know that his voice was not pleasant. If she was to break that separation, to become both the architect and the enjoyer of his embarrassment, a line would be crossed. The sport would be over and she would be an adversary.

Her resolve — not to continue, but to end— nearly broke as his expression changed. The shade of his face was nearly rivaling that of her skirt! It was amusing, but not the sort of amusing that drew a crowd. No, this was the sort of amusing that drew pitying glances and earned her no money.

It was, however, still entirely worth it.

Vix lowered her violin and bow as he sang his final note, allowing his voice to be the final, rather horrid say. His motion was mirrored, though half as severely, by the woman. She rocked back on her right heel, the toe of her left foot pointing up. It was as natural an intentional gesture as she was capable of. The end of her bow rested lightly against her boot. Vix cocked her head.

"Why thank you!"

She leaned forward, fingers lightly scraping his as she took the coins. Her fingers were long and slender enough so that they seemed rather inhuman, the nails, which were dark in hue, were almost claw-like. Her fingers ran across the surface of the coins in place of her eyes, feeling out what she could of the design before the coins disappeared into her purse.

"High praise for one who paid me to stop playing. Not half bad yourself."

He was perhaps three-quarters bad, but that didn't need to be spoken of. Diplomacy was the way here. Tucking the bow of her violin beneath her arm, Vix stuck out a hand.

"Victoria Stonespire, by the way. Suppose I may as well give my name to you, so you can warn your friends about the horrid woman who forced you to sing!"
Ruben
*Frustration seethed beneath the surface of the practiced mask of geniality that Niles was constantly forced to project. This woman was enjoying every minute of the damned situation, and they both knew it. There was little he could do but go along with it - no use in making a scene - but he would surely remember the way she was enjoying it for later. 

Her mail, he decided, would contain a much more insulting tone of letter than she ever intended to write should she send any through the courier service. He already opened all his letters - and most he returned untouched. But hers would be facing a full rewrite in his best forgery handwriting if he could ever get the chance. Yes, perhaps she had a set of patrons he could alienate.*

"Well, I estimate at least more than half." *He maintained his previous statement with a smile, taking her hand for a brief, almost businesslike handshake. The claws of a beastwalker were familiar to him. His mother had exhibited similar features, and many of the townsfolk back in Slydenn had popped out a fang or two when they smiled.*

"Ethan Pedron." *He recited his name with a small flash of a smile, indicating his leather mailbag with a flourish of the walking stick that he hoped was not necessarily enough to seem mocking.* "There's my name for you, in case you want to send mail to someone you don't want to speak to." *He hesitated for a moment, as if contemplating a detail.*

"I say that as a joke, but one time, someone used me to send an adder to a woman that he thought he deserved more time with. If you *Really* Want to send mail to someone you don't want to speak to, please be forewarned that I do open packages to inspect the contents." *He added, careful to protect the security of his business.* "Strictly confidential, of course, but I can't really have people sending each other glyphs of warding in the mail."
Joseph
He was harder to read now, when he wasn't largely at her mercy. This, she thought, was perhaps the least fun part of performances like this. There was no more music, but it still wasn't simple talk. It was theater, in a way. Or perhaps some sort of repair. She had to make sure her victim wasn't going to beat her over the head with his walking stick when she turned her back.

"More than half? Selling yourself short, then."

He had a strange handshake, she thought, but that was to be expected. Claws like hers were useful for encouraging such behavior. She didn't very much want to be held on to. As her hand dropped, her fingers flexed, curling around the bow beneath her arm and drawing it free. Once more, the tip of the thing was brought to rest against her boot. 

"Ethan! Lovely to meet you. I shan't forget it — or you, for that matter."

Ethan Pedron. She didn't think they were likely to cross paths again. He probably would avoid her, even if she really had enjoyed his company. Bright coloration went both ways, she supposed. She was both drawing eyes and warning away those wise enough to recognize the potential for humiliation.

"Oh! I may have to take you up on that. Plenty of folk I don't want to face... Though.."

She leaned in once more, bending at the waist. Her feet remained firmly planted on the ground.

"How can I be sure you won't return the favor and humiliate me?"

Vix grinned, her eyes locking to his. There was no way this man was going to handle a single bit of mail from her. In fact, this did present a bit of a problem. Had she seen him before, under circumstances in which she would not remember a face? Certainly she didn't remember every courier she'd ever spoken to...

"Oh please! Don't worry about what I send. You must realize by now I'm best at being cruel face to face!"

She straightened, curling her ring and pinky finger around the bow of her violin, then brushing her hand down her skirt. Her toe had moved to prop up her violin case.
Ruben
"My pleasure, Miss Stonespire." *He inclined his head politely. A partial pang of disappointment ran through his mind at the thought that she would not forget him - but in truth, being remembered had its uses, just like being forgotten. In any case, he could be forgotten quite easily to most people. If she was someone he would have liked to keep tabs on, there would be much more opportunity for it now.*

"Service is to any city with a wayshrine, though I work out of Ardunon. As a matter of fact. I'm just coming back from a delivery now." *He added at the mention that she might take him up on his courier services. He had to sell himself in more ways than one, and part of that was advertising.* "Urgent deliveries at all hours if you need, and local mail out delivered before noon the next day. It's two blocks west of the west gate of the palace. Ask for me, people will know."

*Oh, he very much wished he could have the chance to humiliate her. Without breaking character, of course - it was certain to bring nothing but trouble if she found out anything too deep about him. Performers, he thought to himself in disgust. If only she knew what a performance she was witnessing at that very moment. But if wishes were coppers, then Niles Haran would be a rich man indeed.*

"For one, the reputation of my business." *He raised an eyebrow.* "You wouldn't miss a trick in putting the song of a disreputable courier out there, and you'd probably write some pretty lyrics to go along with it. You might be the *Best* At cruelty face to face, but that shouldn't restrict you from other options, I think. Anyway..."

*He swung his bag back securely over his shoulder, re-seating it so that it seemed comfortable.* "Thanks for the song. I appreciate it."
Joseph
Vix pushed case up with one foot, then once more bent at the knees to pick it and her sling up. As she had done before, she balanced the case on a bent arm, setting about putting her instrument away. This was the best way, she thought, to show others that she was getting ready to leave. There was only so much of her time she was willing to give up for three coppers.

"In that case, you must be tired, and I will let you by on your way. Your business does sound terribly convenient though, for one who is not making the journey!"

She snapped the lid of her case closed, settling it under her arm. Then, she picked up the fabric sling — which had thus far been hanging over her arm— folded it in half, and then tucked it into her belt. It wasn't all that graceful a motion to tie it to her back, and there was something to be said for dignity. Though it wasn't as if Ethan had anything to say about that...

"I only tease, Mister Pedron. I have the utmost trust in your standard of work."

She did not tease nor trust. Two blocks west of the west palace gate was now as good as forbidden territory. Vix gave a little wave of her hand, accompanied by another fanged smile. 

"Well, in that case, perhaps there *Are* Some I'd like to give a piece of my mind. In writing, of course. You wouldn't believe how some people treat their hired performers!"

The beastwalker took a small step back, giving him room to walk past her. There was an aspect of caution here. Even if she hadn't been a bit funny, she did not make a habit of letting anyone she'd been over-friendly with follow after her. Some were too desperate and made assumptions. It was too easy to lose sight of a pursuer in the crowd, and very easy to track one who stood out.

"You're very welcome. And thank *You* For the song! Do have a lovely day."
Ruben
"Same to you." *Across the cobblestone streets of Varilon did Niles Haran walk, embarrassment and fury hiding behind a genial smile on his face as he made his way back to the wayshine - and, hopefully, back home for a nice, cool drink and some hot food. He had been too long away from Ardunon...*