It had been a fortnight since the highwaywoman had darkened the door of the Floating Dragon. The gaming hell wasn't her favorite dive; she preferred whiskey holes where the booze flowed freely, without the distractions of gambling to distract one from their drink. There was one main reason she came to the Dragon. A one-eye named Blort. It was easy to spot the squat little sneak-thief. He was at the bar, nursing a mug of ale - alone and scowling fiercley.
"Whiskey. A bootle." Ailova took the seat next to Blort, glancing askance as the bottle was placed in front of her.
"Old and homely! You still owe me!" Blort's face wrinkled up like a petulant pug-dog denied a bone. The black patch was on his left eye tonight, but Ailova had long since given up trying to remember its original placement.
"Aye, that I do, Blort. And I'll be 'appy enoof 'o pay. Save, I need ye 'o find me partner. Elias. Cannae ye 'elp?"
"HELP! That's what I did last time!" Blort looked disgusted, but his frown eased a bit as Ailova filled his mug to the brim with whiskey.
"Do ye ken 'is location?"
"Mayhap. Leave this bottle and I'll see what I can manage." The greedy sod grabbed the bottle, giving Ailova a quick nod.
"Tell 'im." Well, hells. What should she tell him? "Tell 'im I need 'o see 'im and all is well and fair." The bandit glanced about the raucous gaming hell, drawing up the collar of her frockcoat.
"Was it you or him that put down the bloated bear?" Blort asked suddenly, fixing his one eye on her with a curious look.
"I havnae a clue wot ye mean. I dinnae care fer huntin'." The highwaywoman slid off the barstool, tossing a few shillings to the bartop. She doffed her hat to Blort, but didn't wait to trade more quips. Instead, she hastily made her exit from the gaming hell.