Participants:

Kindle_icon.gif Varric_icon.gif

Scene Title Clover
Synopsis A Diplomat and a Merchant meet in a bar
Location The Hanged Man
Date
Watch For A nickname.
Logger Varric

Varric is one of those people who seems to live in the bar. This would be because he does, in fact, live in the bar. His only trips to 'home' consist of duty visits and business meetings with his brother and those aren't frequent. It's too early for storytelling- it's not drunkthirty yet- and there are only a few people milling about, since the lucky ones are earning their ale money for later. For now, the dwarf is at his favorite table near the center of the room, listening to the lazy gossip of those with time to kill.

Not exactly who or what one would to expect to enter a bar in Lowtown. Not that there hadn't been the rumors of the little redhead wandering around here and there in the last few days. One would think she had learned not to do it alone. But there she is, stepping inside, in a gown of emerald green, that could possibly cost more than most here would see in their lifetimes, the fiery curls pulled up off her neck, though one or two had made a valent escape to tumble back down her back. The girl simply strides through the door, though she does stop once inside, blue eyes blinking at the change of light before they sweep the room.

Well THERE'S an incident waiting to happen. Or an attack waiting to be drawn in. Varric has seen a LOT of things in his life (seriously. Including things he'd rather not) but this is a new one. "Clover, either you're lost or you have an overriding need to become the next incident in Lowtown. You lost?" He's not getting up, but he'll offer a seat by gesturing to it. "Safest place there is." The chair, that is.

Blue eyes find him before the offer is completed, though for a moment there was a bit of a pause. "No, not lost.. just…" brows furrowing a little as she studies the dwarf before starting across the room closing the distance to his table. She is small but there is a stubborn tilt to that delicate jaw when she stops behind the indicated chair. "I am looking for someone."

Varric chuckles. "Well, this is an unusual place for someone like you to look, but you get all kinds down here. Name's Varric," he introduces. "And if you can give me a name, I can help you find them." It's not a brag, really. He knows just about everyone that anyone would look for.

Hands settled against the back of the chair, Kindle meets Varric gaze full on, her nose scrunching as he asks for a name. "Can you now? Alright. I am looking for a theif who tends to fight with two knives and three nights ago was took a dagger to his left shoulder and was stabbed in the side with an arrow." her brows arching a little as she waits to see what he has to say about that.

Varric nods. "How soon do you want this thief?" He's the 'anything can be gotten with enough time an effort' kind of guys, apparently. "Not that I'm promising to bring them to you right away, but if you give me a couple of days…" He gestures toward the bar. "Chances are I'll hear all kinds of things. People like to talk to me." Which is all it is. He's a friendly story telling dwarf. Nothing more.

A slow smile pulls at her lips, deepening dimples as Kindle tilts her head just a little. The movement, causes yet another lock of that flaming hair to tumble free, somewhere on the bar floor the soft ping as a hairpin hits the floor. "I don't want the thief. I want my dagger."

Varric laughs. "Maybe you should describe the dagger. That one may be easier to get hold of than the guy you stuck it in." Clearly this conversation has made his day. And here he thought it was just going to be more stories around mugs of ale. "I'm a merchant. Items I can find easier than people." He pauses to take a drink and then shrugs. "Technically a merchant. I prefer telling stories here." Lazy rich dwarf.

His laugh has Kindle shrugging softly, before she finally takes his offer for the seat. Chair pulled out, skirts smoothed as she settles in.. the entire process having at least two more pins wiggle their way free as if the whole mass was trying to escape. "And I am technically an Ambassador, though I perfer daughter of the Teryn." she shrugs again. "We can not all have what we want." hand folding. "Boot blade, 10 inches, double edges, made from a swirled composit of lighter and darker metal and a wire wrapped hilt."

Varric looks impressed. "An ambassador, huh? Well, ambassador Clover, it's nice to meet you. I'll tell you what. I'm going to tell the bartender to set you up with a drink and I'll go write a message to a few friends telling them to let me know if they find this thing. It'll be interesting. I like interesting." Sure. He does. Now he's going to go write those messages.


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