[b][center][h3][color=orange] Lein [/color][/h3][/center][/b]
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[b][color=orange]Location:[/color][/b] Old Aimlenn Backstreets 
[b][color=orange]Interactions:[/color][/b] Sergio [@VahkiDane]
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[color=orange]"Not often enough, really. Far better than being holed up in that pile of rocks and harrumph about,"[/color] Lein furrowed his brow, trying to remember what he was assigned to do right now - [color=orange]"cleaning cauldrons or whatever. Gets boring breathing the same air twice." [/color]

Lein rolled the apple over his knuckles and bit into it. Instead of taking out a chunk, he instead withdrew to leave the teeth marks imprinted on it. As he walked by a curious child that watched them, Lein tossed the otherwise untarnished apple at the kid and strode on. Lein spied the guarded shifts in Sergio's stance, his curt nods betraying, perhaps, a simmering sense of nervousness. Well, carelessness was far worse, Lein supposed. 

With one final turn into a tight alleyway, it was as if they had crossed across an invisible threshold. Though the crowd outside was still present, the sound of hundreds of overlapping footsteps and the shouts of merchants still leaking from the 'main road', the din soon melted into the background. Somehow, in spite of the density of humanity filling every nook that was still unclaimed, here was a place yet to be reserved by anyone.

Tucked away and squashed up against a partially dismantled castle wall, was a tiny courtyard - at least, it still tried to be one. What capacity it held a time ago was taken by buildings that had propped up at its edges, and it was hardly bigger than a couple strides across. The center was a massive tree, gnarled and roots pushing up rogue stones that used to brick the floor. It mantled a trap door at its base, frames bent but still holding integrity. It was supposed to be hidden underneath a pile of leaves and dirt, but signs of sweeping hinted at a recent relocation. A poor disguise. Nonetheless, it remained undisclosed to the incurious simply by virtue of being so far into the obscure corners of the town.

No-one outside. Hmm. Although he had promised nothing to his co-conspirators, there was still an unwritten routine that play: one that Lein had been late to. Lein pressed a knee down on the trapdoor, making sure to not allow it to accidentally fling open, then wrapped his prosthetic hand against the trapdoor twice, the bare bone knuckles making a harsh clacking sound.

A pattering footstep echoes in response, then a voice from beneath the trap-door. [b]"You're late."[/b] A young boy's voice. Pouty, but not quite scornful.  

[color=orange]"As always!"[/color] Lein replied cheerily, and finally set down his wooden box next to the tree with an audible thud. [color=orange]"But I always deliver, don't I?"[/color] 

There was a shuffle as whoever was inside pressed up against the trapdoor. If one was careful to look, there was a tiny gap between the panels that showed a sliver of an eye, attentively giving an eyeful at the stranger next to the Hundi. [b]"There's someone there?"[/b]

[color=orange]"Yeah I've got a,"[/color] Lein looked Sergio up and down, as if he had seen the red-maned Knight for the first time in his life, [color=orange]"some rich gawker who thought this place was a hoot."[/color] He gave a pause, as if daring Sergio to come up with a reasonable explanation to why a sharply dressed man had followed a dirty street dweller all the way to this forgotten edge of town.