[[OOC: 6th Firstfall, evening]]
Zevran
Some merchants were honest folk who simply wanted to make enough money through their hard-learned trade to support their family and maybe have a nice home. Isabela thought their vision boringly limited, but there was something to be said for being a decent person who didn’t screw over the people who worked for them and kept their focus on a goal. However most merchants she’d ever met, and particularly in Kirkwall, would gouge every last coin from you and take a finger or two while they were at it. Isabela didn’t usually begrudge them that either. After all, it was what she’d done every time she’d haggled over a haul. More coin meant more drinks, more fun, more freedom.
But every once in a while she came across an asshole so incredibly puffed up with their own success that they were unbearable. She’d had the misfortune of running into this particular motherless son of a wyvern earlier the same day, while trying to get rid of some of the loot from her last heist with Josc. Not only had he refused to pay any more than the bare minimum for the valuables she was offering, he’d also insulted her to her face and then he’d refused to give back the necklace she’d given him to look over. First he’d claimed that she’d been mistaken, then he said she must have absent-mindedly tucked it somewhere on her person and forgotten about it (and leeringly offered to check), and then outright threatened to call the guard on her and have her canned for fraud. While a few days cooling it in the cells never spelled much worse for Isabela than boredom, being arrested for a crime she hadn’t even committed was simply too insulting. And she didn’t feel like explaining to Aveline exactly why she’d refused to be taken in and beaten the shit out of her guards in the process.
So she’d stalked off, with the odious man suggesting that she should come back later when the shop was quieter. Oh, she was going to do that, but not in a manner he’d like. She was getting that necklace back and a few other odds and ends to make up for the insult.
Isabela sauntered confidently through the Merchant’s Quarter, slinking into the shadows only when she got within a few streets of the shop. No sense in being spotted by some entry-level sentry. It was only fun being chased when she already had the loot in her hands.
Zevran
Some merchants were honest folk who simply wanted to make enough money through their hard-learned trade to support their family and maybe have a nice home. Isabela thought their vision boringly limited, but there was something to be said for being a decent person who didn’t screw over the people who worked for them and kept their focus on a goal. However most merchants she’d ever met, and particularly in Kirkwall, would gouge every last coin from you and take a finger or two while they were at it. Isabela didn’t usually begrudge them that either. After all, it was what she’d done every time she’d haggled over a haul. More coin meant more drinks, more fun, more freedom.
But every once in a while she came across an asshole so incredibly puffed up with their own success that they were unbearable. She’d had the misfortune of running into this particular motherless son of a wyvern earlier the same day, while trying to get rid of some of the loot from her last heist with Josc. Not only had he refused to pay any more than the bare minimum for the valuables she was offering, he’d also insulted her to her face and then he’d refused to give back the necklace she’d given him to look over. First he’d claimed that she’d been mistaken, then he said she must have absent-mindedly tucked it somewhere on her person and forgotten about it (and leeringly offered to check), and then outright threatened to call the guard on her and have her canned for fraud. While a few days cooling it in the cells never spelled much worse for Isabela than boredom, being arrested for a crime she hadn’t even committed was simply too insulting. And she didn’t feel like explaining to Aveline exactly why she’d refused to be taken in and beaten the shit out of her guards in the process.
So she’d stalked off, with the odious man suggesting that she should come back later when the shop was quieter. Oh, she was going to do that, but not in a manner he’d like. She was getting that necklace back and a few other odds and ends to make up for the insult.
Isabela sauntered confidently through the Merchant’s Quarter, slinking into the shadows only when she got within a few streets of the shop. No sense in being spotted by some entry-level sentry. It was only fun being chased when she already had the loot in her hands.