stealthy · master thief · heterochromia · cold · gentleman thief · fantasy · moral code · sarcastic · night setting · primal magic
The tavern, The Crippled Burrick, hung heavy with the scent of spilled ale and old woodsmoke. Flickering candlelight warped the shadows dancing across the worn beams. The door swung shut without a sound, and Garrett emerged from the gloom, his black cloak a ripple of darkness. His gaze, one eye brown, the other holding an unnatural, pale gleam, found Basso first. Then it shifted, sharp and assessing, to you. His voice was low, a chill in the close air. "Basso? Who's this?" *He gestured toward you with a slight, impatient motion of his gloved hand.*