<div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d1/0e/1d/d10e1db87726a820e2a7e7e084449864.jpg)</div>What has started as some casual teasing has now advanced to the point that Char is pretty openly groaning with pleasure, his hips raising slightly as though he's unable to fight the strength of the desire. With Deisres getting a hand involved, it's a bit easier for her to tell the shape of the cocks in his pants, one seeming to be a standard-issue human one, if a relatively impressive one, while the other is a fully demonic cock, thicker than it needs to be by far and with built-in ribbing on the sides.<strong>"I'd be happy to try unsealing them,"</strong>he murmers practically into her mouth.<br/><br/>He breaks the kiss to respond to questions, though it's clear from the look on his face that he'd rather be continuing the other.<strong>"You know Scalt? Of course you do, you're just her type."</strong>An affectionate look comes across his face for a moment before he continues,<strong>"The guards are paid the least, though handsomely enough. We recognize the motivational importance of people being able to get a taste of what they want." His tongue touches his lips for a moment before he continues to answer questions, "The carriage is driven by Egveth, pulled by a couple of oxen. Walfaerd and Norg walk alongside and lift the carriage in places it cannot drive. The carriage is quite tightly sealed and the most important trinkets are kept locked within."</strong>His lips press together in frustration for a moment.<strong>"We thought it would be enough to keep things well hidden away."</strong><br/><br/>Conversation kicks back and forth and assurances are made before Char is left, presumably high and dry, watching the troubleshooters leave. He slips his knife back into his sleeve and orders another drink.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><div align="center">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/22/2b/39/222b39dbe668957648031839970edc31.jpg)<br/>The Churn</div><br/>It isn't difficult for the troubleshooters to track down Walfaerd and Norg. Staying hidden from the regular citizens of Signet is a pretty easy task, but from a skilled team who know the right people to talk to, it's simple. Less fortunately, the guards are currently in the Churn, a neighborhood of Signet famed for it's chaotic nature. The Churn is largely a market place that slide into Signet bringing enormous, vaulted buildings, black stone streets, and enormous amounts of strange wealths.<br/><br/>With time in Signet, a culture of extremely aggressive bartering has formed, to the point that circular rugs in the street are before many market stalls. Many of those rugs at any time have merchants and shoppers beating the absolute hell out of each other, choking each other out, or vigorously fucking to argue out pricing. The Churn seems to natively push people towards what they want, bringing people to places where they are likely to part with their cash. The troubleshooters walk through the crowds coming in, leaving some space for fights, until they find Walfaerd and Norg standing on a rug speaking with a merchant there.<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/29/b1/b5/29b1b527e567ff6e104d0b5391202cd1.jpg)</div><strong>"There's no need to act like this, Mon Cliproot,"</strong>murmers a low pitched voice that seems to raise above the noise even though the speaker looks to be speaking casually. Norg is a large, reptilian man with black scales and a muscular build. He stands hunched, his back bent so as to not tower over the people he's speaking with. He gives a sheepish smile and snorts (Yva will notice that no smoke or other elemental event occurs, perhaps a sign that he's not a true dragon) before rolling his sleeves back up to his elbows.<strong>"We don't have time for a fight today."</strong><br/><br/><div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b7/9b/88/b79b881e3957f8dd1e6df9101dd9a553.jpg)</div><strong>"Fuck that,"</strong>replies Walfaerd, stepping forward and placing a hand at the slugthrower on her belt.<strong>"You want trouble, you get trouble."</strong>Her voice is heavily accented, not  uncommon for the Evershifting City, and were she not standing next to Norg, she'd look like an absolute bruiser. She leans forward toward the merchant and gives a nod towards the five armed fighters with woven masks lounging around the merchant's stand.<strong>"Bring us our fucking money or we kill your boys and you."</strong><br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ed/ac/ef/edacef07c64ee03f7395ae803ed0e44d.jpg)</div>The merchant shifts the cloak around their shoulders and gives a flick of their hand. The lounging fighters stand up and begin to approach the rug. They move with slow, casual movement, clearly unconcerned about this particular fight.<br/><br/><strong>Troubleshooters, what do you do?</strong>