"So, brat, you haven’t paid for your drink yet. Give me some info." A brow raised from the boy, Anath leaned back, his hand still on the rat that scurried just a inch away from him. 
"That all depends friend, information is far more expensive than the horse piss you serve here." His words laid back, yet a smirk on his features, he only watched as the bar tender began to grow angry. "You watch your mouth! This is the best your ever going to get." His voice was rugged, raspy from drink and smokes. He didn't seem like the fast type, or the intelligent. 

"Oh forgive me, your right sir. I could have never gotten something better than the juices from a decaying corpse. Honestly I don't know why I drink this stuff, guess its to pass the time, keep me warm. Look if its just local gossip I'll be given it to ya, but that be it."
Kicking his feet under his stool, Anath leaned his arm on the counter. Pushing the now empty mug while he cupped his face in his hand. The rat tipping the container and lapping up the dripping liquid. He wasn't going to stay here much longer anyway, back room seemed rather tempting.
Still he listened to the growling man, finally give in. He should be smart enough to not kill a information broker. Least not the child that worked with Dijkstra, he was known to be spoiled by his fellow street rats. "I need to know if me wife is having an affair, I heard stories she was, and she's been coming in late."

The words caused the boy to burst in laughter, shaking his head, and readjusting his cap to keep his elven ears hidden. "Sir, your wife will ride anything that has something between his legs. Even offered a round with myself, though believe me when I say she's not my type, not even close."
Watching the man turn pink, he was about to make a get away, "sir, don't be thinking I'm a liar. Lying will only have gotten me killed a long time ago. You wanted to know what your wife is doing and I told ya, now she does have reason but that cost extra, so if I were you I would grow a pair and talk to her."

Leaning back even further, the rat falling to his lap, Anath barely dodged a harsh blow that was meant for him. The man knocking down the drinks set up, foul tasting liquid dripping from the side of the counted and soaking into the mouldy straw ridden floor. The woman at his side cursing a few colores before moving to clean the mess. 

Taking that as his cue to leave, the boy let his rat climb to his shoulder. Making his way to the loud bunch, another witcher laughing, his words off slightly. It was strange, he always seen witchers as being calm, cold and collected, beings who had the stillness of a mind that could take down the foulest of beasts.
"Well witcher, there are more than enough places you folk go to when you need to hide. But those places are barren now, last group left to a keep, said there was a few jobs down dare."

Smirk on his face, Anath leaned on the counter near the swords man. He could feel the emotion from the guy, disdain, someone who had no tolerance for the kind. Folk like him were a dime a dozen. But seeing the armour and fine sword on his person was screaming to him. This guy and the witchers were all here for Dijkstra's new little job. "Name's Anath, the local street rat, so what brings such colourful characters as yourself to a place like this? Surly its not for the women and drink."