Deckan could practically taste Eacarus' disgust at their long wait. Declan himself did not usually mind such a wait; the longer it took for the mark to show himself, the more prepared he could get. The cold was killer, though. And the wind. Mixtures had to be modified for the environment, and wind blowing fumes all over is one of the hardest to account for. Thankfully, if all went according to plan, there'd be no need for fumes. Just blades. Deckan never did like marks that had no need for his potions and tonics, but they still come in handy, regardless. He had prepared an intense flashbomb; a small vial of an off-white powder, with a small fuse poking through the cork on top. It only took a few seconds to detonate, a necessity when using it to escape. Also held under his cloak was something fairly recently developed; a mixture that generates a highly toxic gas. A sort of last-ditch, but if Deckan was being honest, he<span style="font-style: italic">really</span>wanted to see what it did to someone.<br/><br/>The low din of the tavern grew louder, and out stepped their mark, an ugly fop too tall for his body. Fool left his guard inside at his most vulnerable. Eacarus turned to him, a look of perhaps entertainment on what Deckan can see. His voice in response was gravelly, a quiet wheeze every few words. Clearly, his life working with chemicals has damaged him, also evidenced by the be-hosed apparatus covering his mouth.<br/>"The only qualms I have are how easy it makes the kill. Should I flash him?"<br/>Deckan held out his flashbomb, a long matchstick ready to light the fuse. He was missing one finger, the ring of his right. His hands and forearms were bandaged in their entirety, the bandages disappearing into the arms of his long cloak.