It never ceases to astound me. Ulroke plays the dangerous game of provocation like it's the only card in his hand. Perhaps it is. He sends an unspoken regard in my direction, whether to get a rise or to acknowledge that there are eyes on him, I cannot hope to know. I doubt the man is foolish enough to think that the Hunters would simply ignore him. For the sake of propriety, I offer a stiff, slight nod in return before returning to previous business.

The man named Shinsou.

He speaks briefly with the Lady of the House, which affirms only what Dresden said before. Friends in high places could render the man untouchable, lest he take action that breached the law. The Sway's hands were invariably tied when it came to matters conducted between the Nobility.

"Fucking foreigners," Patrick murmurs in exasperation. "They come in with the gall to think that they can buy the place with enough coin. Just because he's not Salvic, the bastard fancies himself good enough to speak to the Lady Farthingdale in such a familiar way."

I spare a quick glance in his direction, and watch the choler rise. Jealousy, is it? "You seem to think that men are made of morals, Pat," I muse gently, allowing a slight smirk. "Coin is worth more than honor in some circles."

"This isn't the Salvar I love," he spat defiantly.

"The problem is that you love this cesspool at all." His expression is rueful as he scoofs at me. "The flesh is sinful, Brother Patrick," I remind him.

But how could we ever forget that lesson?

He stands rigid for a moment after those words hit him, and he closes his eyes. With his head bowed, Patrick utters a prayer beneath his breath and then exhales sharply. "You humble me with the scriptures, Brother Stalt," he tells me, suddenly reverent.

I wonder what fresh hell they forced him to live through, such that it would illicit such a response?

Tobias Stalt, I believe?

The very man I'd taken my eyes off for but a moment has swam his way through the crowd and presented himself to me directly. Our eyes meet for a brief moment as I turn to fully face him, and I can feel now the presence that had seemed stifled at a distance. Magical, perhaps, but it carries with it experience and danger. Shinsou Vaan Osiris is not simply a hedge sorcerer to be trampled out by the All-Seeing Eye. A handful of those Hunters had the training or skill to last a full minute against someone who exerts this much pressure.

No, I've decided.

"I'm on duty," I tell him. Time is money, after all. "Can you make it quick?"