The rogue lifted his shoulders and shrugged, mumbling a noise vaguely similiar to, "I dunno... He's your friend, ain't he?"<br/><br/>"Just uh... use your womanly charms or something." He said, waggling his fingers as if he was telling some spooky camp tale, "Then again, word has it you've already got him bewitched... But if he's any patriot of Alweistrom, I'm sure a dead Tythian or two won't bother him much."<br/><br/>"If he's not... well, damn. We've got to figure out another plan." The rogue added with a bit of fright at the thought.<br/><br/>"But if you can manage to get him to meet us by this address." He said, scrawling a note on a piece of paper, "Right before curfew. We'll handle the job and pay him what he wants."