Merc faltered only a moment to stare at his companion incredulously. "What sort of unholy..," he started, shaking it off and turning away as Halam shoved the sacrilegious beard-bacon into his mouth. "Forget it. Ah.. in a city of pompous nobility, there will always be an even<span style="font-style: italic">more</span>pompous leader. We'll know her when we see her. And we do<span style="font-style: italic">not</span>smell."<br/><br/>A slightly over-exaggerated claim, Mercutio decided, even just a few minutes later. He was by no means a short man. In fact, he could safely say that he was at least half a head taller than most of the crowd. This in mind, he had quite a bit more viewing range than his companion, and as far as he could see, they were all dressed the same. Silks, jewelry, other modest adornments. There was nothing resembling anyone out of the ordinary, when the 'ordinary' were dressed like nobility.<br/><br/>That aside, the crowd - the women especially - kept giving them dirty looks and moving away from them. He couldn't tell if it was his boiled leather or Halam's plate armor that disgusted them, until he decided to smell his shirt.<br/><br/>Okay, so perhaps there were<span style="font-style: italic">two</span>over-exaggerated claims...<br/><br/>"We're never going to find her like this," he noted, though he was entirely certain that Halam had already gathered that much on his own. He turned sights to the sides of the road, looking for any back alleys or junctions where they could cut across, perhaps going around and altogether cutting out the middle-man that this parade turned out to be.