The thin man seemed to float from shadow to shadow as he crossed the tavern neatly missing every pool of light cast by candle or lantern. Even the patrons who saw him arrive could not describe him if asked. He sat down at the table.

Sir Ronald straightened and clutched the hem of his cloak with one hand in an attempt to cover his highly polished armor. In his other he held, as ever, a goblet of wine. He was slightly sad, as he could not place the vintage and it had a distinct odor of rotting wood.

He gazed at the man. Or, rather, he tried to look at the man but whenever Sir Ronald’s eyes pointed in his direction they slid off and focused elsewhere. It was quite dizzying. Magic? Or maybe bad wine fumes? Nevertheless, Sir Roland was here to conduct an interview. His heavily armored foot nudged the other person at the table.

Ayne had her hood up, with both hands firmly wrapped around a wooden bowl of Elvish gin, staring blankly into its depths.

“Ayne.” His mustache undulated slightly as Sir Ronald whispered her name rather loudly. “AY-NE. Our… guest has arrived”

She pushed back her hood. The guest looked intently at their faces; an old man with a full beard, dressed in very shiny but slightly dented armor and a young female elf called Ayne. (As you know, you should never ask a lady her age, but a young elf could be any age from twenty to two hundred).

With a surprisingly deep voice, he said, “Oh.” And then, “Ah.” Finally, “I see.”

Sir Ronald raised an eyebrow and replied with a cough, “You see what, may I ask?”

“The notice said you were looking for a thief. Not that YOU were looking for a thief.”

“I’m sorry. I’m a little confused. WE are looking for a thief.” Said Sir Ronald , his second eyebrow joining the first.

“But YOU are Sir Ronald Deeds and that is your wife Ayne Deeds.”

“Former wife” Ayne corrected.

“S’Right? Well, everyone knows anyone who works with YOU ends up mad or dead.”

“True.” Ayne sighed, sat back, lifted her hood and returned to bowl gazing.

“Not true!” Sir Ronald slammed an ironclad fist on the table, knocking over his wine.

By the time he had righted the goblet and looked up, the thief had vanished.

"Well, that went well." said Ayne.

"Do you think?" Sir Ronald waved at the server and waggled an armored finger into his empty goblet. "We may have to pay Bodkin a visit."

"Bodkin? Doesn’t he want to kill you?"

"Possibly, but what other option do we have? No one wants to quest with us and we need to rescue Gwynifer."

...