Driscoll walked behind her, keeping just behind the train of her dress. "My name is Driscoll. Driscoll Volo," he answered. The he missed the majority of the room, keeping his eyes on the floor as they walked through the foyer. The floors were marble, he could feel it under his bare feet, cold and smooth. He heard the shuffling of feet around him and peeked to the sides to see servants and guards alike.<br/><br/>He folded his hands behind his back, in full view of any of the guards that dared to think he would try anything. He kept his eyes on the train of her gown, watching at is rippled with her steps and the colour of the fabric seemed to change in the lighting.<br/><br/>From some where inside the palace he could smell food being prepared, most likely something far grander than he'd ever eaten. His mouth watered at the smell and he licked his parched lips. He dared to wish, that just once perhaps, he would get a taste of it. A taste of finer things and true luxury; as a opposed to a nice pay and silk sheet with plush pillows and a few decorative jewels.<br/><br/>A thought came to mind. What if the drow that gave him that ring was trying to frame him? What if he gave him that ring so it would look like Driscoll was wrapped up in this smuggling operation? It was entirely plausible, though his usual client had no reason to get his favourite whore locked up in jail. Of course it was worth it if he was trying to rid himself of smuggled gems.