Luthain of Brae, Lord Captain of the Keepers of the Watch, a master of spear, blade, and bow, sat at the tavern table with an untouched tankard of ale in front of him, his eyes burning with righteous fury. Whenever he got in these kinds of moods Dorian had found that it was best to just let him blow and bluster himself out rather than try and talk him down from the brink of destruction. When he got in these kinds of moods, Luthain was as bad a summer squall in the southern sea or a winter blow in the northern heights. You couldn't reason with him, you couldn't divert him, you could just batten down the hatches and hope to ride out the fury. "He stole from me," Luthain growled for the tenth time since taking his seat. "He walked right up to me, slipped a hand in my pouch somehow, and made off with my coin. MY coin." The grizzled old battlefield commander continued grumbling and growling, mostly under his breath, and Dorian tuned him out. He wasn't sure why Luthain was taking it so hard that he'd been robbed. It wasn't like this was the first time a thief had managed to slip their fingers into his pack and make off with a goody or two. It happened to everyone, even Dorian from time to time. Although a thief had to be skilled indeed to escape his notice, more than partly because Dorian knew the trade himself and had practiced it a time or two. "It's just coin," Dorian said in a break in Dorian's tirade, and the other man's eyes snapped up and narrowed. Dorian fingered the hilt of a dagger hidden up his emerald green sleeve, but Luthain didn't make a move toward the axe leaning against the table, so he let it go. "Why is this time so hard to swallow, old friend?" He asked, gently reminding Luthain that they were, in fact, friends. And fervently hoping that the other man didn't remember that their friendship had begun years ago when Dorian got sloppy and Luthain caught him trying to pilfer a very special gem from the brawny axe-wielder's pack. With the mood he was in the man might decide to take out his frustration and vengeance on the closest thief to hand, and Dorian didn't want it to be his hand or his head that ended up taking the brunt of that anger. "I don't know, to be honest," Luthain growled after a moment. He picked up the tankard as if to take a drink, but slammed it back on the table undrunk. "I think it's just the audacity of it, or maybe the fact that I didn't realize it had happened until the little rat had slunk off into the shadows. Or maybe I'm just fed-up and tired of thieves who think they can steal and rob and pilfer with impunity while good, honest people can't walk down a street with their pockets safe." "Down a street? You were in the city of the dead, old friend, and you were in the heat of battle. Of course you didn't see a thief plying his trade with your focus on keeping your skin whole. There's no shame in that." "No shame indeed," Luthain growled. "There is shame alright. It's just not mine. It's that snake's, that thief. O'Malley. Cowardly name, even." Luthain turned his head and spat on the floor. "Listen, Luthain, if you spit on the floor again or break one of her good tankards Clarissa is going to come over here and break your thick head," Dorian whispered across the table, looking around to make certain the broad-shouldered tavern keeper was nowhere to be seen. "Now, the coin is gone and you can't get it back. You might as well drink your ale, relax, and let it go. For your own sake, man." Luthain shook his head slowly. "Not this time. I'm serious, I've had enough. I know you travel in those circles, Dorian. Find out who this guy is, where he's from, everything you can. Put it out there that I'll pay fifteen thousand to anyone who can give me the details on this slime." Dorian shook his head. "That's more than the coin you lost is worth, Luthain. And if you're gonna pay some chump source that, then pay me my finding fee on top of it, you're going to be even more in the hole than you are now. Is it really worth that?" "To teach a thief a lesson and get some vengeance for once?" Luthain asked. He picked up the tankard, drained it in two large gulps, and slammed it down loudly on the table. "You bet your curly red beard it's worth it." "I don't care whose Captain you are of what you wool-headed ox, if you break my tankard I will break your HEAD!" Clarissa bellowed through the open door from the kitchen in back, and Luthain laughed for the first time that night.