((Mm fantastic, thanks. I think this section just excludes sex ))<br/><br/><br/>The six foot street entertainer and painter sat an appropriate distance two tables away from Artie Bogdown and Serlene and sipped the least intoxicating liquid the tavern passed across the counter. Whilst his outward appearance was that of a human it was simply a convenient façade for a dragon who could alter his shape from creature to human male at will and he didn't normally drink since shape-shifting, flying, painting art or juggling didn't mix with the mind-fuddling effects of alcohol. There had been very rare occasions that late night revellers staggering home caught a brief glimpse of his winged form in silhouette against the moon but the tales were dismissed as alcohol induced delusions. He wondered if Serlene knew his secret, but if she had even a suspicion she kept it to herself and he didn't dare to reveal what he was in case it drove her away. The dark auburn unruly wavy hair fell into his face as Lochinvar shoved up the sleeve of his white linen shirt away from the puddle of spilled beer on the table and kept his his ears tuned to listening to Serlene and Bogdown. If anyone could get information from Bogdown it would be Serlene.<br/><br/>Artie Bogdown shifted from side to side feeling uncomfortable on the hard seat and considered the tracker's words and the blistered hand under the glove. She knew nothing he decided. “Errrrgh.” He cleared his throat noisily. “Could be there really is a dragon.” He suggested and hauling his distorted frame up drained his beer off. “I 'as the little perishers to feed.” It served as explanation for leaving and why he was keen that the situation didn't get worse. If there was a shortage of rich pockets to be picked he and his urchins were sunk. “M'am.” The old criminal shuffled off and rolled out onto the street.<br/><br/>Lochinvar chided himself as he flinched as Bogdown mentioned the word 'dragon' and stared at the tankard in front of him as he waited for the man to leave. Watching out of the window he saw Bogdown weave down the street then took his jar to the table to speak to Serlene. He sat alongside her and looked despondently down into his lap with slightly glazed blue-green eyes. “It's not him and his little crew, back to square one.” He spoke in a quiet baritone. Worse than square one if there was no work for Serlene she had no reason to stick around. His head came up as he decided what to do. “I'll have to sneak about closer to the Warrens. We need evidence, catch them in the act. Have you eaten yet?”