Trusting the soldiers to do their job, Dren turned and continued on his way up the street. No sales made yet, he lamented, patting his wares on the inside of his coat. The whole business with that strange figure and his fellow spy had flustered him a touch, but nothing could break his calm and gentlemanly demeanor short of an earthquake. So, he decided it was time to move on. I mean, what could one man possibly do? 

Thus, he made his way up the path, headed for the theatre, patting the pocket with his ticket inside of. He was intent not to miss a performance, be it good or bad.