<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f3/Gleeman.jpg)</div><strong>Character name:</strong>Quinton Fallhen (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=234819.msg11769495#msg11769495)<br/><strong>Position:</strong>Gleenman, Blue Ajah Agent<br/><strong>Bondmate:</strong>None<br/><strong>Tag:</strong>Aleana<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Afternoon, Saven 5, 990NE<br/><strong>Place:</strong>Blue Cat Inn<br/><strong>Warning:</strong><br/><hr/><br/><br/>Quinton listened to what she said, a grin on his face. It hid a mind that whirled away. Something was up, he had a feeling. Something that had Aleana uncomfortable. He didn't know what it was, but it had him curious. Of course, it might be something personal. Maybe she had a young gaidin she was fishing for, or something of that nature. But... Quinton was a curious sort. He'd learned that lesson well. Taking things at face value was polite, kind, and the morally upstanding thing to do. It also meant you were a puppet at beast, and a beast lead to slaughter at worst. And Quinton had no doubt that if Aleana believed it was necessary, she'd sacrifice him. Quinton was a valuable pawn, but he was still a pawn. At her question, he switched gears. He could chatter with Aleana for quite some time. Like many Aes Sedai, she had a kind of ageless beauty, and she was nearly as clever as him (at least in his own mind.) She might mess with powers not meant for man, but at her heart, she was still at least partially involved in the game of Cloak and Dagger. And unlike the Great Game he'd left behind, even enemies in Cloak and Dagger could sit down and enjoy their time together. There was a kind of honesty in the fact that they were both decievers.<br/><br/>"The trip was fine. It's a straight trip up the Erinin after all. I mean the first leg on a Tairen ship. Only to Aringill of course. The Tairen's still think you Aes Sedai have horns, voids where your heart should be, and consort with dark powers. That was fairly uncomfortable. The ship belonged to some noble, and he'd paid the least amount possible on the comforts of his crew, of course. On the up side, the Captain gave me the trip for no fare beyond a bit of song, and entertainment for the lads."<br/><br/>Quinton paused, taking a bite of bread and cheese, and drowned it with a gulp of ale, before continuing.<br/><br/>"I stayed in Aringill for a few days. The city is lovely. Best part of Andor, honestly. I've always found Camelyn tiresome. It is beautiful, but it is a sterile beauty. The Ogier can give stone the semblance of life, but I've always preferred the real thing. Port Towns may be seedy and disreputable, but one thing they are full of is life. After that, I paid an Andoran Hauler heading to Tar Valon for passage. He had a side business carrying a few noble passengers, so I got engaged as official entertainer. Noble make terrible audiences, almost as bad as your Red Friends, but the food was amazing. On the last night, I drank a bottle of fifty year old Altaran Red with the Captain. Fantastic vintage. Those crazy woman may have plenty of strange ideas, but they can grow grapes like no ones business. When we docked, I hopped ship, and came straight here. I've stayed her before, and I know that even with the faire, I can find a cot. I took a long bath, because I would hate to offend an Aes Sedai's sensitive nostrils - the Wheel knows what I would end up smelling like if I did - and waited."<br/><br/>Quinton flicked another piece of bread and cheese into his mouth with those vanishing and appearing knives, chewing thoughtfully before he continued. Green eyes sparkling as he met her tan ones, adopting his best silly gleeman look. Quinton had dozens of inner selves, trotting them out and then putting them away when it pleased him. When he got to drunk, sometimes he wondered if he had lost the true self some where along the way, and that under the masks there was nothing left. That was usually right before he started cursing about Reina and passed out. Those days had become fewer and fewer. Quinton enjoyed his life, and found little need to drink his troubles away.<br/><br/>"As for what you sent me out to do... what can I say. I noted a few things about your sisters..."<br/><br/>His hand reached inside his cloak, and pulled out a leather case. It was treated to be water resistant. Inside, Aleana could see a number of resins, strings, and the other bits and pieces his instruments required to keep themselves in good working order. However, he yanked out the lining, and removed a stack of paper, covered in elegant scribbles. It was ciphered, of course, but Quinton had given Aleana the key to the cipher (at least, to the one he used with her) back when she first employed him. He slid them to her. They were accounts of each Aes Sedai he'd met, evaluated first in terms of his general observations, and then for the specific signs she'd asked him to look for. There were notes on 3-4 dozen sisters, scattered across the Westerlands.<br/><br/>"...but as a general rule? I didn't see anything horribly suspicious. Sure, they were all meddling in their own way, but thats what most of the Ajah are designed to do, isn't it? Meddle in various ways. Though you might want to mention to Ms. Naina..."<br/><br/>A Red he'd met in Bandar Eban, trying to get aboard a Sea Folk Vessel.<br/><br/>"...that if she wishes to pass as a Domani, she really needs to learn how to walk. A good Domani Woman can drag every man's eye in a room in just a few steps. Naina can put on the dress, and even flirt, but unless she learns to walk, every man in the place is going to know she's a counterfeit. And to be honest, she isn't that good at flirting. I mean yes, flashing your cleavage when you have breasts like hers can be effective in the extreme short term, it lacks a certain finesse and subtlety."<br/><br/>Quinton was very aware that Aleana was Domani originally, and had no doubt that she still knew how to walk like a Domani. His eyes twinkled as he told that tidbit, knowing she'd likely get a little enjoyment out of it. The Reds were very skilled in some respects, but their interactions with men tended to be a bit less... subtle, then most of the Ajahs. It was hard to be subtle with something you had forced yourself to hate, in Quinton's opinion.<br/><br/>"How have you been? Still keeping up the chronicles, being the unofficial meddler of the Tower?"<br/><br/>Quinton had given his view on the various Ajah's to Aleana before. The Gray Ajah were the official meddlers of the Tower. The Blue were the unofficial meddlers, forgoing conferences and treaties for more clandestine efforts, such as this.<br/><br/>"Found an adorable young Gaidin to fill your bed, or still fishing for one?"