It's a rapier - in three distinct pieces, forte, debole, and oddly inconspicuous pommel. The woman fidgets, and her mouth is still as her hands shift in steady gestures. [I don't know if you'll understand me. I don't know what it'll cost to fix.]

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Relieved gratitude, delighted amusement, and sinking dejection - all flit across her face in the brief minute of that exchange, and all without a word said. It's little wonder the place is so packed, then, and it seems she'll be out of luck for some time. She tells herself it's the friendly face,

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[Heard?]

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- if anything happened there, it won't be a long shot." He sniffled against the cold eating at him. "Anything else you can tell me about this charming place or is it left up to my imagination?"

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If you aren't a mark they're going to call you a Luddite anyway so might as well own it 🔗⬇️

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