It was slow, it was painful, but he had to wait and bide his time. There were people who wouldn't hesitate to kill him if they knew he was here, and he needed to get the full scope of the situation in Jayou. The underworld was on a whole different level here than back in Nisshoki. It was part of the city itself, like the deep roots of a tree beneath the ground. You couldn't tell how far and wide they stretched. Omura had helped him a good deal giving him a cover as a distant relative to avoid suspicion and place to stay. Work in a cramped noodle shop wasn't exactly the place you'd expect a former member of a gang to hide out, but it gave him an excuse to make his rounds through the river city when he went to buy the day's ingredients. So far he had memorized many major streets and areas that were under the control of varying gangs, major alliances and enemies, and where they would glean their protection fees. Avoiding those spots on those days kept him out of the picture, and kept him from risking an run-in with the Crimson Dragons. 

Another busy day of work started with him bringing in cases of the day's catch. Crab, prawns, freshwater eels, and dozen other river fish were poured into tubs to be prepped for the menu. A pile of vegetables from the farmer's market were waiting to be washed and sliced, noodles to be boiled, and broth to be heated and tasted for seasoning. It wasn't easy running a small shop that only had five people working at the same time. With a grunt, he set the tub of cleaned prawns on the workbench to start peeling their shells. Miyo would then toss them with oil and garlic for a few minutes before making the next day's soup stock. It was an hour before the lunch rush when he was finally done. Masashi wiped his hands clean and lathered in a tub of hot soapy water before taking a breather.

"How goes your errand runs? Learn anything new about your mark?" A middle aged man with long earlobes and a mole in his forehead moseyed out from the back room, sitting on a stool next to him. "Boss." Masashi nodded at him, to which the odd-looking man waved a hand dismissively. "Still stuck on that old habit, aren'tcha? Just call me Omura, don't want to give any hoodlums out there the wrong idea." He still wasn't used to calling his superiors by their names, it wasn't how things were back when Takara-san was alive. "Sorry… And no, nothing new yet. I'm still learning the lay of the land here. Hiryu isn't the only one I'm going to need to look out for." The long-lobed man looked thoughtful and gave a sage nod. "Quite right. Honestly, he's still a small fry when you look at things. But he sure'll try his darndest to make waves, even if he steps on a dozen others' toes to get up there. Who knows, maybe he's finally hit someone who can bite back?" 

From Omura's contacts in Jayou, Shohei Hiryu had begun to slow his initial aggressive approach once he cut himself a spot into the city. About half a dozen smaller gangs had been beaten down and had their territories overtaken by the Crimson Dragons, while only a few select survivors were allowed to join–on the condition that they kill the rest of their members. It was a brutal yet effective way to make sure he was only getting those who were serious about joining him, no matter the reason. It also wiped out chances of the subjugated gangs from taking revenge. Being a ruthless man, he was making sure he surrounded himself with people who thought the same way as him. Even if there were still members of Gen's old gang left, they might not be able to lend him much help. He'd have to find another way. But first, he had to start cutting the cabbage.

The artisans and tradesmen in Jayou were incredible, unlike any that had ever been seen before. At least that's what she'd been told, which is why Paradox had decided it would possibly be a nice place to visit. She'd been a little of everywhere but she was looking forward to seeing terrific work done by masters of the trades. And the city had not disappointed. In the market, there had been several booths where she had stopped simply to gaze admiringly at several pieces of art. Though far out of her price range, she was able to get ample satisfaction from just looking upon their beauty for a few minutes. Rugs, chairs and other furniture, paintings, jewelry, knick-knacks, and even weapons were designed and made here, all of which with seemingly unparalleled grace and precision. They were all beautiful in their own way.

There were adornments that were unique, as well as intricate designs that could only be accomplished after decades of hard work and study of the trade. All the time and effort and experience piled together amongst the shops and various objects were innumerable. She would definitely make a point to travel here again in the future, so she could see the new creations the trade masters had created. Times like these caused her to desire to work with the trades, but her centaur physique made such work very difficult, especially at a human loom or forge. So she would have to wait. Not in this life at least could she accomplish these things, but possibly in the next. Fate had a strange way of working out things like this.

She had walked up and down the market for the better portion of the day, forgetting many things, including to eat periodically. So when the shops started to close up for the day and people started to leave, she realized that she had neglected to eat anything all day. It was this hunger that caused her to followed the delicious scent of soup and noodles to a small shop at the edge of the market. It was a little place and as she went towards it, she could see the small number of employees working there, mostly young men it seemed. There was no doubt in her mind that their cooking was on par or above the quality of crafts she had seen today. It only seemed fitting that they be as good cooks as the tradesmen were of their trades. She smiled as she approached, though having to duck to be able to look in over the counter. 

She knocked on the wooden panel before calling out a soft "hello" to the man working inside. After a moment, she asked him if the shop was still open for business, perking her ears forward expectantly. She had never had this kind of soup before but waited patiently for his answer. It was no matter if they weren't open or not, there were several other shops that had food. If they weren't open, she'd just walk over to one of them. She was optimistic in thinking that all of the places in this city had good food. It wouldn't make much sense to have such amazing tradespeople come in and sell there wears here when the food the city offered was awful. It'd be like putting a gorgeous bouquet of flowers in a dirty broken glass. On the top, it would be beautiful, but it would still have a dirty foundation so much so that no one would be willing to take it, no matter how pretty the flowers were. 

"Irasshaimase! Please come in! When you're ready, you can ask that young man over there to take your order." The long-lobed, forehead mole owner said to the first customer of the day, pointing at Masashi. It took a moment for him to realize Omura wasn't talking about Usugi or Souta–and that he was the only one at the counter right now. It was a hard task, but he would do it to the best of his ability. A man faced his challenges head on, and didn't run. Handling the customers was usually Usugi's job when Miyo wasn't here; he had a way of getting even the most stubborn people to open up. With the counter obscuring his view of the customer's lower half, he thought nothing of her unusually tall height. With a face like flint and an expression that could be used to sharpen knives, he gave a quick and direct bow as he said in a rather forcefully earnest voice: "Welcome to Hoteiya! What would you like to order? Our special today is eel ramen with prawn tempura and seasonal vegetables. A list of our dishes are written above the counter on the wood placards." 

Calling his repetition of the usual server's greeting stiff would be an understatement, especially with a face like his. But the delivery was just so overbearingly serious that he seemed more like a soldier addressing his senior than a cook at a noodle restaurant. A few of the other cooks inside were suppressing their laughter but Masashi didn't hear. He was too focused on his job. The placards above had the names of various noodle dishes in the local language and in Adelunian Common for visitors. Jayou was a melting pot of all walks of life, part of why things weren't the same here like anywhere else. From a glance, it was clear this shop's specialty was their seafood. A small list of beverages ranging from teas to wine were at the end. 

The bubbling simmer of stock being heated for the noodles was behind, the rhythmic chopping of Souta's knife skills against the chopping block told that the scallions would be ready to sprinkle over the finished bowls. Cooking the noodles didn't take long. The fresh noodles went into the steaming broth with the seafood, additional meat was placed on top, scallions and other seasonings were added, and then it was served–all in a single bowl. For other noodle dishes the order changed, but the wait was never more than the time it took for a man to finish a small bottle of sake. If such cases did happen, they would provide a small appetizer to tide them over until the order was ready. Their usual side dishes were seasonal pickled vegetables, tofu, or stewed items. White radish and cucumber were their staples year-round along with shredded thick seaweed.

Paradox smiled as the older gentleman the initially greeted her at the counter. He was older looking, but not to the point of old age. His ears were quite long for a human and she was curious about them, but was too polite to ask. He had a mark upon the center of his forehead as well but overall was a rather normal looking individual. He seemed to be the good-natured type and from the looks of the shop, a hard worker. Out of all the employees working there, he was the oldest of the lot. She figured he was the owner of the shop, especially given his energy and enthusiasm. Compared to the rest of the staff, it seemed he had to make up for a lot. He gestured to a young man, he looked a little older than her, who was working at a table behind the counter. He stopped in his work and came over to her.

Compared to his boss, this individual was definitely lacking in the customer service department of the business. He greeted her with a bow that almost looked painful to watch, he appeared tense and rigid, not nearly as flexible and easy going as was to be expected. His face, when he came close, was very serious, almost abnormally so considering he worked at a noodle shop.  Of most trades and businesses, she figured the food industry to be rather calm and mundane. It wasn't inherently dangerous work for the most part, short of burning oneself in an oven or getting cut with a knife, it did appear rather simple. They weren't fighting in battle or dealing with red hot metal on a forge. There generally wasn't that many working hazards with making food. So it piqued her curiosity when he came out looking as rough and rugged as he was. 

He greeted her with the typical welcome, though again with the most minimal enthusiasm possible. After his introduction, she looked up to the wood placards she mentioned hanging from the wall behind him. She took a moment to read over everything, never having had this sort of food before and only understanding a few of the words. She figured to try something different for a change. She read what was in several of the recipes, stopping on one that had several ingredients that she recognized. Broth, fish, and vegetables. "Can I have the Chan-kon-abe please? With cucumber and seaweed?" She didn't know how to say the one word and she felt bad about butchering it. She hoped the young man behind the counter understood what she meant.

"Also what is Sake?" she asked him as he wrote down her order. It was a word unfamiliar to her, but she felt like she'd heard it in context a couple times. While she waited, she watched him behind the counter. He was stiff but precise in his movements as he made his way around. Still the whole time, he had a face like one would make after they had just bitten into a lemon after mistaking it for an apple. It was almost painful to watch. Casually, she leaned against the counter, while cocking one of her hind legs up against the other, she attempted to figure out what was so serious. "Busy day?" She asked him, her eyes bright. "You seem a little tense is all." Perhaps he just really didn't like his job, now that she thought about it, to be cramped in a little shop all day, every day, would probably get old fast. 

Chankonabe, he noted. "Chankonabe with two side dishes of freshly pickled cucumber and seaweed." Masashi repeated, as if he were intending to engrave those words into his memory. When the woman asked an explanation for what sake was, Usugi cut in before he could open his mouth. "That's rice wine, in layman's terms. It's sort of like liquor, but y'know made from rice. There's a lot of different types of brews from clear to cloudy, but I won't bore you with the details. The clear sake's what most people order. We get our brews from local distilleries and imports from Ataiyo." Usugi, his senior in terms of time working at Hoteiya, was a man with probably the most skill in striking up conversation in the entire neighborhood. Whether it was a timid housewife or a hardened thug, he had a way with words that made people open up and start talking. Omura called it the 'silver tongue', a trait that was easy to understand but hard to master. Some obtained it through practice, while others had a natural talent like Usugi. Usugi was a fair-faced man about his age who looked at least a few years younger with eyes that could easily melt ice. No wonder the female customers came in droves on the days the man was working. 

"Oh and don't mind him. His face's always like that. He just started working here a couple of weeks ago, so he's still learning the ropes." Usugi grinned, throwing an arm around Masashi's shoulder. What a way with words…he could disarm an entire gang with a few sweet-talking sentences. Taking the cue from his senior, he bowed again and let Usugi handle things while he started cooking the dish. Chankonabe wasn't something customers ordered often. To start, it required many ingredients in large quantities and a single serving was often better split between two to three average people. Those who usually wanted to eat that much normally would prefer a dish with only meat than vegetables, and would skip the broth entirely. Still, as an employee you gave the customer what they ordered. If they wanted to eat a larger portion, you cooked a larger portion. His concern was more about the possibility of wasting some food if they didn't finish. Omura had told him the reasoning behind their serving portions, and he understood the concept.

The process took longer than the usual bowl of noodles. While the broth was boiling he had mushrooms, cabbage, carrots, sliced onion, and other leafy vegetables sliced. Shifting to a different chopping block, he rinsed his hands and began hacking the leg quarters of a chicken into pieces. The meat was thrown into the broth, then he added large chunks of tofu. The vegetables were then put in and left to simmer until the meat, mushrooms, and tofu were fully cooked. In that time he had the cucumber and seaweed side dishes out on the counter, set before the customer before returning to fry a few pieces of shrimp tempura. At the end of a thirty-minute wait, he set before the centaur a massive steaming pot filled to the brim with udon noodles, vegetables, tofu, and meat. Then, he carefully added the shrimp tempura on top of the mound to finish. "Please enjoy your meal." He said, Usugi coming in from the side to slide whatever drink the woman had ordered. "Take your time, there's no rush~ Chankonabe's not something you can eat in a hurry." The senior employee said with a cat-like smile.

Paradox watched the stern-faced man behind the counter take her order. He still seemed very serious about the issue. He seemed ready to answer her question, but before he could speak another younger man jumped into their exchange. He was younger looking than the first man. His face was open and friendly and he appeared much more sociable. She listened carefully to him explain what Sake was. It seemed like an alcoholic beverage, though slightly more refined than the standard beer or brew. Still, she wouldn't risk it by indulging in the exotic drink. Her kind was especially susceptible and sensitive to the effects of spirits. She had seen members of her herd embarrass themselves severely when under the influence of such a beverage. 

The young man also explained that the young man behind the counter was usually serious about things. He was new to the work and was still catching on to everything. This likely explained the sour expression. That, or he was not the fondest of this kind of work. She hoped he was at least a good enough cook. She was looking forward to trying the soup dish thing that she ordered. She wouldn't exactly know what to call it until she saw it. She watched him bow again before going to work. She didn't know how to react to this, these customs were foreign to her compared to the other parts of the country she had ventured. 

She watched him from the other side of the counter as he moved back and forth to prepare her meal. First, he boiled what she assumed was some sort of broth, judging by the smell. Then he flitted to the other side of the kitchen and started swiftly dicing up several different types of vegetables, some of which she recognized, others she didn't. She watched with interest, her ears perked forward as he made his way around the small kitchen. He quickly cut up a piece of chicken and threw it into the pot of boiling broth. After the chicken, he added large chunks of a thick white substance she had never seen or heard of before. It was odd, but she hoped it tasted good. Lastly, all the chopped up vegetables were added to the pot and the lid placed on top to hold in the heat and flavor. 

While the main dish cooked, he set about making the cucumber and seaweed dishes, both of which were set in front of her when they were done. She flicked her tail eagerly, as the smell wafting from the pair of items was delectable. She couldn't wait to indulge in this wonderful food. Finally, the main course was done and the young man set in front of her a large dish of noodles, vegetables, chicken and the strange white things. As a finishing touch, he placed a garnish of shrimp to the top of the mound. She smiled at him when he brought it over. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "It looks incredible. It's very much, unlike anything I've ever seen." Carefully she picked up the three dishes in her hands and walked slowly towards the side of the counter where the other young man stood. 

There she paid for her meal with some coins she had in her saddlebag. She politely declined to order a drink and walked towards a clear spot a short distance away from the stand. Settling herself down underneath the high branches, she folded her legs carefully under her so that she could set the three dishes on the ground. The main dish was fantastic. The meats and vegetables blended together very well along with the broth. The white stuff that she couldn't identify was interesting to eat. It wasn't a vegetable but was also not a lump of meat either and it had a rather bland texture that easily took on the taste of the other ingredients. Overall, it was very well put together and unique, definitely something she would try again. It was no time at all before she realized in her haste to eat, that she'd already eaten over half the bowl. 

With Usugi to smooth things over, she paid for her food and took the dishes outside to eat. It was then that he found himself staring half in shock. Of course he was wondering about why the woman was so tall, but never in his entire life did he expect her lower half to be the body of a horse. Masashi wasn't sure if he was awake now–how was such a thing even possible?! "Oi oi, quit staring. You're going to make yourself look rude." Usugi leaned in next to him. "Oh…I didn't mean it like that." He never meant it out of rudeness or discrimination. Having never seen any others aside from humans he didn't know how else to react. The senior employee leaned on an arm watching their customer. "I know. I mean you probably didn't see much outside the sticks where you moved up from, right? Big cities like these are places where all sorts of folk come and go. Back when I first started working here I had to learn how to play it cool when I couldn't figure out how to address a customer." Masashi raised an eyebrow, not fully buying it. "Is that so…" Usugi having a hard time being his usual talkative self? He'd have to see it to believe it.

The early lunch crowd was starting to filter in, so there wasn't much time for talking. Most were regulars, and after the first week he started noticing certain customers always ordered specific things. Every bit helped in breaking down barriers that his lack of experience and personality caused. Within a half hour the bustle died down as people were eating or leaving. When he saw that their first customer looked about done with the chankonabe and side dishes, he went out to collect the bowls and plates. He stacked them carefully, ready to return inside after giving the unusual woman a nod. It was then that a few thugs were passing by. Their faces were cocky and their skin flaunting off fresh ink. It wasn't even colored in, showing they were just grunts despite their attitude. Anyone who was somebody in a gang would have their tattoos fully inked in color. The gangs here in Jayou weren't like Takara's group–they talked big and walked like they owned anyone they thought was lower than them. Their ink was bold and brash like they were putting themselves on display, unlike the simpler marks the man he called 'father' had. Even so, Takara never showed pride over them. 'When I was cast out, they planted this mark on me as a disgrace. From that day forward, I declared it would become an eternal reminder to those who dared to shame me of my vengeance.'

Hiryu and a few others had ink on their skin too, but out of everyone Shohei's stood out the most. It was large, terrifying in shape and a deep crimson–a blood-red dragon baring its fangs down at those before it. Fortunately, none of these low-level scum had anything remotely close. They weren't part of the Crimson Dragons, that he was sure of. They lacked the same level of cold-hearted cruelty Hiryu possessed. Even so, it was best to stay out of their way and not draw attention. One of the rough looking men accidentally 'bumped' into Masashi's right shoulder. If it weren't for his strong grip, the dishes would have easily been dashed to pieces onto the ground. 

His brow furrowed deeper despite avoiding a total loss of Omura's dishes. He knew what was coming, he'd been on the other side before. Only difference was these thugs were petty, looking for easy marks. The taller of the two roughly grabbed him by the front of his clothes. "Hey–you got eyes in the back of your head?? Watch where you step old man." The one who made contact earlier let out a mocking laugh before spitting at his feet. Masashi knew he could take these two on, but avoided making eye contact. Sending them straight into the river was easy, but he couldn't do that. Not right now. He could see people staring, and Omura watching from the shop. Acting out now would put everyone at Hoteiya in danger. It didn't matter what they said or did to him–he'd take it, as long as it made them lose interest and leave.

Paradox was enjoying her lunch so much so that, she almost didn't notice the young man that had taken her order approaching. She was just wrapping up eating the remains of her cucumber and seaweed when he walked up to her. Carefully, so as not to step on a dish, she gathered them up in one hand and stood up to return them to him. She smiled at him as he took them from her. Even in the light, he still wore a scowl and a stern look. His eyes were dark and incredibly deep. It was like looking into the eye of a storm. She glanced down so to break eye contact with him, she didn't want him to think of her as a challenger and she had no intention to make him upset.

"Thank you," she said. "Your food was absolutely wonderful. You definitely have a gift with cooking. I will be returning to try your food again when I come back again next year." She was curious to know what was on his mind that caused him to look so upset all the time. She watched him get everything together and then walk back to the shop. She folded her ears back slightly and let the smile slip off her face. It made her sad to see him like that, even for a stranger. It was difficult for her to see anyone so…distracted? Life was terribly short as it was, it couldn't all be taken so seriously. One needed to have fun and laugh a little to get the most out of it, to see someone unable to laugh or even smile was heartbreaking. She gave a sigh as she reached down to pick up her bag and throw it over her shoulder.

By the time she looked up, the young man that had helped her was surrounded by other young men. She sensed these men were different. They were young and strong and seemed eager to show off their strength. On their skin were markings, some large, some small, most of them simple in design. She'd never seen tattoos before but recognized them to be a form of tribal markings. The herds would have markings that were similar whenever they would go to battle in order to tell the other herds apart, or even when multiple herds would gather together for meetings or migration. It only made sense that humans had similar markings, though up until now, she'd never seen any in person before.

She watched the interaction with the shop worker from a distance, deciding whether or not to intervene. She narrowed her eyes as she saw one of the young men bump into the server, though in a way that made it very evident that it wasn't an accident. She saw another roughly grab the server by his shirt collar. At this movement, she felt the need to walk over and intervene. Her ears pinned against her head as she strode purposefully towards the group. The server stood between the two, purposefully avoiding making eye contact with them and not appearing to go out of his way to avoid them. "Is there a problem here?" she asked them sternly. 

Things weren't going well. Masashi was weighing his options on how to get the thugs off him without making them want payback and calling their friends to trash Omura's place. He knew punks like these would and did on most occasions tear up businesses to teach them a lesson. Omura had given him more than he asked for when he came to Jayou looking for help. He wasn't going to repay that with misfortune. Then the customer's voice interrupted the two thugs preparing to wrap up their humiliation. Masashi closed his eyes and clenched his empty hand, out of the sight of the two that were now glaring daggers at her. This would not go well. If what he knew about horses was true, she could easily trample them and overpower them even if they had knives. The strength of her lower half alone would send the two down with a charge. But this wasn't the best place for good people like her. For someone who had dipped his hands into the same deeds as the two wild dogs holding him, if someone had to settle this it would have to be himself. His past life wasn't anything to be proud of, he knew that. But even brigands and bandits had limits.

It was becoming harder and harder not to retaliate, and he was already feeling the burning in his blood. It wasn't his habit to sit and take it, he knew it was one of his problems. Takara had told him not to jump in so early, and more than once painful lessons reinforced that. Fighting back like this was selfish, even if it did make him feel better. But now the situation had changed. This stranger had stepped in and challenged them. Just standing and not taking responsibility would be twice as selfish then throwing the first swing. Luckily, he never had the chance to do that. "Oh my, what's going on here?" That familiar voice, Usugi! Maybe it was foolish of him, but as crazy as it sounded he thought that silver tongue might be able to turn things around. Usugi slid in, his voice like a purr. "I'm so so sorry about my little brother here. He's a little clumsy and kinda thick-headed, y'know? He has this problem of bumping into people, might be his eyes we haven't checked. Ever since mom died, he's taken it really hard." Masashi was totally confused–what was Usugi talking about? And for some reason, everybody else who was watching was starting to tear up a little, going back to mind their own business.

Usugi knelt down and clasped the shorter thug's free hand. "Can you forgive us this time? Please? Pretty please?" Usugi's eyes widened, the edges watering. "We're barely making ends meet, and we won't bother you again! I mean, it'd totally be a waste of your time stepping on mud right?" For a moment, Masashi swore he was starting to feel his nose sting and his eyes water too. As soon as he saw the faces of other two who were trying to rough him up, he snapped out of it. The taller one let go of his clothes. "Tch…noisy punk. Come on Akkan. These spineless chumps are a waste of our time." The other one agreed and decided to go, still scowling though. Usugi kept kowtowing and shedding crocodile tears until they were out of sight. As soon as they were gone, he straightened up and turned around to face Masashi and the customer with a beaming smile. "And score! Suckers~ Gets 'em every time." The man held up a small handful of coins.

"Wait, did you just–?" Usugi put a finger to his lips and shushed him. With a wink he sidled back into Hoteiya, having defused the situation. Masashi was still trying to figure it all out. Forget a silver tongue–Usugi's was definitely made of gold. Speechless, he found his own voice again and turned to the half-horse woman. Giving a bow, his stern face softened a little. "I appreciate what you did for me there. You're a good person. But next time, you don't have to stick your neck out for me." The man hoped what he was saying didn't come of as being ungrateful; that would be unthinkable. "I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of, and I know it all comes back sooner or later."

Paradox watched the interaction take place, but didn't participate further. She heard a voice from the noodle stand and perked her ears forward in that direction. One of the other young men, the one that talked with her while her meal was getting ready actually, jumped out of the stand and walked over to them. He jumped into the middle of the group, between the stern-faced man and the two younger trouble makers. The words he spoke were saddening and she saw several people who were once quite interested in their conversation, turn their heads and walk away. The whole area seemed cleared out in no time, everyone sad or getting there. The human side of her, like the people around, were sad, though not to the point of tears, unlike several other bystanders.

However, the animal side of her felt something else and was skeptical of the younger man. It was unsettling to her and her tail swished tensely. She watched the man fall to his knees and appear to beg to the two larger men that had attempted to scuffle with his fellow employee. To the surprise of her animal instincts, the tactic worked and the two thugs left the pair alone and went about their business, just like everyone else that had observed the interaction. Her ears dropped slightly, even more so and accompanied by the scowl as she saw the younger man stand back upright with a handful of coins. She gave a long slow sigh as he scampered back into the noodle stand.

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and saw the stern-faced man bow to her. She looked down at him, her frown still very much apparent. "Oh don't worry," she said, slowly turning on her hindquarters. "I'll go out of my way to not stick my neck out for you. I'd rather not help a pair of pickpockets if I can avoid it." She pinned her ears and looked at him, very much disappointed. Wandering back over to the tree she had laid under to eat, she picked up her supplies and gear that she had left there in her haste to help. Hah, some help it was. It merely provided a diversion so that the younger worker could slip in and sweet talk one of the other men out of their money.

Right, like she'd go help them again. She picked her way slowly down the road, purposefully avoiding looking at the shop or the any of the employees that were there. She wouldn't stop there again, no matter how good the food was, she couldn't help such a business flourish when it employed such individuals as the one who she just witnessed steal from another. It wasn't in the best of most business practices to hire thieves.