"Well aren't we fancy, up-and-coming with our band of fool-adventurers?" Timmy Two-Fingers laughed at Sophie, "look, I didn't get where I am by giving things away for free, but you've always been my kind of scum. Let's cut a deal, yeah? Let's see, lemme think... there's a meet-and-greet of some bosses coming up in a few days, do some business, show the wealth, that sort of thing. New territory with no more lich lord, plus those heroes setting up shop," he thumbed in the direction of the Castle, "so it's important. Everybody brings the missus or the mister. Now, there's this crooked priest who wants to go places in this thing of ours, but he's got a bee in his bonnet about chastity or something. He shows up by himself, everybody looks at him funny, alright? Asks what's wrong with him. So he needs somebody to pretend to be his girlfriend.<br/><br/>You get to rub elbows with some big-shots and maybe talk about this little disgrace you took care of," he made a stabbing motion to emphasize 'took care of', "I get paid, holier-than-thou doesn't piss off his god, and all you gotta do is make kissy-faces and lean on his arm. Sounds win-win for everyone to me. Oh, you'd hafta try extra hard to not embarrass yourself or<em>hkkkkkk</em>," he drew a line across his throat, "wouldn't end well. So, how's that sound? "<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Tracking the cart used to carry the cakes proved impossible before long, even for Evan and Lauriel's skilled efforts; there was simply too much<em>town</em>and the trail had been mashed over, run over and otherwise obscured by the facts of daily life. It wasn't all bad news, however; before the trail was lost, Evan was able to catch sight of a white shirt caught on a damaged horse-post. By the tracks of the cart, their quarry had gone right by it, and the wearer had caught his shirt on the broken ring (now turned into a very mean hook). He had opted to remove his shirt entirely rather than take the time to disentangle it.<br/><br/>Closer inspection it revealed it was a silken shirt, handsomely-tailored by the looks of it and<em>quite</em>expensive, with a collar so generous it would either expose a man's chest hair for all the world to see or give a woman the riskiest cleavage she'd ever shown off.<br/><br/>Still stuck very loosely to the back was a bit of paper that had the words, "Tailored by Rand and Johnston."