He nodded, and scooped up the bag, the amulet set down on the desk first, having ensured it was the real one before she had left. He nodded to the guildmaster, and then dismissed himself, putting the pouch in his bag of holding, and then slipping the guild bartender two platinum pieces to treat the house, before heading for his room. He needed sleep again, the job had been strenuous, even without the damn infuriating assassin, who still made his hands curl into fists just thinking about her. He forced himself to relax, before tossing his bag onto the table, stripping down without a thought about it, revealing a body so covered in scars that no bare, unmarred flesh remained except for his crotch, his hands, and his face. Even his neck was covered in them, evidence of the impossible situations he had survived during his adventures that were just a bit more than a quarter of a century, ruefully noting that his odds of surviving another quarter were far slimmer, if not downright impossible.<br/><br/>He shook his head, and limped over to the bathtub behind the curtain, using a hand pump to fill the tub and then a couple castings of prestidigitation to heat it, before gratefully sinking into it. He enjoyed the bath, though he had two daggers nearby, evidence of the paranoia he lived with, even as he used more castings of prestidigitation to clean his clothing even as he soaked.