The Cracked Flagon

[Golan]

The stable was out of the way, a cozy number near some trees a local candlestick maker of some renown used to hold his personal horse. He'd made it a bit too large, however, so some of the other locals kept sticking their horses there too. It was a bit of a nuisance but an informal payment system and been set up and no one had rocked the boat.

Now, Golan sauntered in, trying to appear calm, and trying to carry a bottle of vodka nonchalantly.