All manner of eyes watched the streets outside the Speakeasy.  Several had already noted the arrival of Tikva and Aria, some discounting them, others filing them away for later possible usefulness.  None disturbed the two.<br/><br/>The sounds of a street cart vendor creaked and rattled in approach, the aroma of the rich bowls of hot broth being sold from it carrying almost as far as the sound of its jittery construction.  The scent was enough to remind the two refugees that it had been nearly three days of them being on the run, with no time for sleep, food, or refreshment.<br/><br/>Though made of stern stuff, the deprivation was catching up with them.  Stomachs gurgled and sudden fatigue from not moving constantly made their limbs feel like leaden weights.  They might very well find themselves collapsed in the doorway they currently occupied for the shadows, if they didn't keep moving or find someplace safe to take refuge...