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[hider=IC whisper heard only by Rhydsar]"[color=#e3ed74]See what I mean?[/color]" Gütta mumbled. "[color=#e3ed74]Enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts, lad.[/color]"[/hider]He tucked the bottle of sour ale into the cut-out pages of the book, which he grabbed, and closed tight, and pressed to his waist as he stood.

[i]Sorry?[/i] She had some nerve, he thought, bringing his free hand up to his scalp, scratching the new layer of dust from his wisps of blond hair. If she had the balls to do that to people then she ought to have had the balls to own up to it, to accept the consequences, without pretending it was an accident. At least then her honesty could be respected. [i]Sorry![/i] It was an [i]accident[/i] like being born on a full moon with a bleeding gape between the legs was a reliable basis for a system of government. Still, Gütta was glad in one regard: one of the pranksters had outed herself. He had gained a clearer picture of who not to trust around here. He'd need a new hiding place, of course, but there were plenty of those, with enough ingenuity. If necessary, if the Order's territory proved too perilous to any good, precious thing he wanted to keep on a nightstand, he could always go find an alley to bury the book in.

Gütta kept a cool face anyway. "[color=#e3ed74]Say, Doc,[/color]" he said, massaging a callused hand into his trapezius, "[color=#e3ed74]I think I sprained something out in the courtyard. You got some kind of ointment I can take a look at?[/color]"