"tell a barmaid or three the right lies, and show them a trick or some coin", Jerrick's father spoke into his memories,"and you can make sure every night you have a warm bed."<br/><br/>Silver hair caught light in the Storehous window. He was letting it get long again. Our Swashbuckler was keen on keeping himself available. Doing such often meant that he wasn't always himself. Light hair was easy to dye.<br/><br/>"Son of a bitch", Jerrick said far from content with the accursed daystar. He spent a fair job's pay on these lovlies drugs. He didn't spend a copper on getting them into his wharehouse.<i>whare is one "o" from whore</i>he though.<br/><br/>The young man didn't really spend any of his coin on these wenches. Though they thought he did. The right opportunity, the right sucker, a good trick and fast hands were easy money. If only getting rid of a headache was as easy. He drank twice his share last night, and like most of his successful nights, it was all a blur.<br/><br/>Taking a look around his hideout, he counted bottles, wenches, and accounted for his things. A grin came acrossed his face despite the hangover.<br/><br/>"Did she really fall asleep like that? Poor thing is going to need to wake up, a shame it won't be proper for her"