Esther
*Restaurants were a place of all kinds of people to hang out. Eat food, drink beverages, maybe even flirt with the waiters or waitresses; everyone had a good time at these kind of places. Some people, however, were more dangerous than others.*

*Sarah Korva, a bandit leader of the Black Sky. While not so high ranking that people knew her name, her darkened armor, black cape, and eyepatch surely gave her a menacing look. Her relatively friendly demeanor though helped lighten things up. The woman at a single table, a large metal disc of a hat lay on the chair leg. On the table, a dish of Kotlet Schabowy, a crispy pork fried cutlet with buttery mashed potatoes and crunchy sauerkraut. Next to it was a large slice of creamy cheesecake, and for the beverage, a glass of vodka. Delicious.*

*In the restaurant, people can be silently whispering about the woman, making comments about her dark clothing and ominous presence. She would confront them after her meal, though her eye is constantly darting back and forth, being wary.*
Michael
*Out and beyond from the door comes Mattheld bursting through the front door, his armor somewhat bloodied from a previous scuttle. Not just his own demeanor matched that of the Blackened-Armored Warrior, but his armor, made of Chain and the like, shows a fierce foe for any man. Although not showing himself above anyone within his vicinity, he is very calm, amicable, and, surprisingly, extremely transparent: his words are the truth, and his body language conveys that of a honorable fighter.

Upon noticing the chit-chatter and whispering amongst the crowd in the restaurant, he sees a woman dressed on black armor. He sees a woman of valor, but not just of any valor, but of evil valor. A waiter attempts to get Mattheld a table, but he declines in the most noble manner he could as he walks towards the woman, ensuring his armor keeps him well-suited for anything and all that may come his way.

As he arrives upon her table, he slams the table with his left hand with enough force to startle her, and he takes a breath of fresh air.*

"Who might you be, madam? Causing such an uproar within this establishment is quite the scene, isn't it? By all means I mean no harm, no fowl, but I will say this: if you ever, and I mean ***Ever***, kill an innocent person or get in the way of my coin, your head will be mine."

*He grabs a bag from his pocket, and plops it on the table. He opens the seal of the bag, a small, thin rope as he drops the compartments.*
Esther
*As Mattheld slams his hand on the table, Sarah is mid-bite of her food. Being startled, the woman accidentally shoved the piece of pork into her throat, almost choking on it before swallowing it whole. Quickly, she scans to make sure her food hasn't flown off the table, especially her cheesecake.*

*Looking up, the warrior can see an almost wolfish expression. Intelligent and cunning, yet capable of extreme violence. But it wouldn't be smart to fight. She liked this restaurant; it was one of the few who had her hometown comfort foods, and she didn't want to be banned from it.*

"And who are you? Be lucky you didn't spill my vodka, or ruin my cheesecake. Can't waste food, you know?"

*"If you ever, and I mean ever, kill an innocent person..."*

*Uh oh. So he was one of those guys. She most definitely had killed innocents in the past. Some of her successful raids needed to call for violence; some with sling bullets, some with lances, though she tried to recruit instead of murder.*

"Bold of you to assume you can kill me. I'm Sarah. Nice to meet you."

*Her fork and knife is set on the table as she extends her right hand, though her eye quickly darts to look at the rope before looking back at the man's standing in front of her.*
Michael
*The Mercenary extends his arm in accordance with hers, giving it a firm shake and grip. Mattheld then grabs the bag and puts it back in his pocket: the items that were once in the bag were small trinkets of lesser quality, not necessarily heirlooms, but of decent worth. He takes his hand away and sits across from her, waiting on a waiter to address him.*

"Well, I am well-known for my fighting technique. It is more traditional than most, but it is still effective. I am a Mercenary hailing from Kadhok: my father was once one as well, Harold was his name, but I doubt you've heard of him ever since long ago. His grandfather was most notable for his presence at Ulnoor Gulf and countless other battles. What might be your backstory be, Sarah?"
Esther
*Well this was annoying at the least, and terrible at most. If she were arrested, she would surely be hanged. Or worse, impaled and burned. Internally, she shuddered at the thought.*

*Her mind focused on every little thing he did. His hand grip was pretty strong, but she knew hers was stronger. Good. Unfortunately, she wouldn't be faster; unlike those warriors in heavy armor, his seemed to be much lighter. Hopefully his bark would be worse than his bite.*

*Phew, a merc. Not a soldier. The name Harold flew into one ear and out the other as Sarah continued to eat her food, looking directly at Mattheld the entire time. Though she wondered what a 'traditional' fighting style was like.*

*Shit. Backstory.*

"Well, it may not appear it, but I actually used to be a seamstress. I'm experimenting with different colors and outfits at the moment. Suits pretty well for a vagabond, eh?"

"But regardless, I'm also a mercenary for hire. A bit more obscure though."

*The bandit was visibly hesitant to share details. After all, it wasn't everyday that someone interrupted lunch and suddenly started talking about backstory.*
Michael
*Mattheld became more and more cautious towards her as he sought out the truth from her. Deep down, he had a gut feeling that something, just something, might be off about her. But that wasn't the matter at this moment as he wanted to dance his blade alongside someone rather than being the lone wolf he truly is in an attempt to create a bond with someone just like his and his father's, of which he is still devastated from losing his father a year ago, the reason for his sudden departure.

He takes a look at the trinkets that are on the table, and offers her a deal.*

"Listen, I don't know if that is true, nor do I have a way of ensuring that it is, but I have these trinkets for you. Take 'em, and I will say this... I lost a great friend a year ago, one that I danced my blade around with, so I was wondering if I could get a new start."