Well that didn’t go badly, he thought to himself as he watched the gunpowder light up a ochre blaze in the darkness – a couple of embers falling onto a nearby bush and igniting that too in the process. It showed an unfortunate oversight in where he had chosen to dig the hole, but he was sure that the owners of the pub would much rather loose a shrub than they would their pub. Or their lives, for that matter…<br/><br/>Picking at one or three of the thorns that were now jutting rather uncomfortably into rather tender parts of his anatomy – trust him to pick a rose bush of all things to dive into, he watched and counted as figure after figure left confines of the building before making their way off into the night. He found himself shaking his head as he watched those who stayed behind make absolutely no attempt to put out the fire or the shrub that was even now crackling away under the flames that seeked to engulf it – musing on how mortals seemed always eager to watch, but never as eager to actually do something.<br/><br/>His eyes were finally drawn away from the sight of the gawping spectators as he noted a figure moving away from the door of the pub, making its way along the side of the building apparently searching for something. And making a line, whether it knew about it or not, right for where he was hiding. ‘Bugger, bugger, bugger’ he cursed thrice under his breath, trying to shift his weight slowly out the back of the bush – only to find that it was none to keen to let go of its newly found lodger without something of a fight.<br/><br/>It happened rather fast – a rather fierce tug at the small dull brown wool cloak that rest across his shoulders, attempting to get it off of the thorn that it had caught itself upon, and before he knew it he had lost his balance and crashed out of the bush to rest upon his back some short way from it. In plain sight – the moonlight seeming to have picked just the precise spot he had fell upon to illuminate with all its might.<br/><br/>And so there he lay – for the moment just a little dazed, looking no doubt quite the sight to the eyes of the figure that made its way along the side of the building. He looked like any man she might have seen before, only considerably shorter – no more than three foot high in height, yet quite obviously an adult. His hair fell across his forehead for a moment – a mop of somewhat unkempt dark brown hair that he brushed aside with his hand, only to leave a streak of gunpowder residue across his skin in the process. He wore a simple outfit – a black shirt that had been hacked quite unceremoniously at the elbows in an attempt to make it sleeveless, a pair of leather breeches, and the scuffed once black hiking boots, looking as if they were a size or two too big for him. Around his shoulders hung the now slightly frayed brown cloak, and across his waist, the numerous bulging purses, sacks and other knickknacks that hung from the belt he wore there.<br/><br/>‘Err…’ was all he managed to say.