Apr 13, 2015
Max + Pockets
Hanging about the brothel is perhaps not the worst of ways to spend the afternoon. His pockets already lined with coins from a few patrons already so drunk they can’t tell up from down. But nicking things isn’t his only pretense for being here. The madam sometimes has odd in jobs that need doing, and maybe today he’ll get lucky. Maybe today she will have something that requires quick feet, and a silent tongue. And ever sharp eyes track her path through the tables, from his place by the doorway. Utterly disinterested in the rabble and the other girls mingling between them. He is not one to be distracted when coin is a possibility after all.
