#this fucker...

Me @ myself acknowledging that this is one of my fave Seb moments:

*sigh*

They find themself at home, or something akin to it, amongst the chatter and bustle of the bar. Never mind the fact that they’d never been to THE ATLANTIS or EEL whatsoever— for all bars were practically the same to Lark. Only the quality of liquor and seating presented noticeable variations whenever she frequented them. Their mood was presently soured by the almost failure of their last robbery— an irritation that only intensified upon relinquishing a large sum of her earnings to gang directly.  They’d hoped to rectify this loss through several, quick fire pickpocketing attempts— only to realize upon collecting a watch from a particular patron, that one of the bar goers had been a previous target of hers. 

In a newly directed effort to lay low, Lark lowers the brim of their hat to near sightlessness, before casually sliding into the seat across from the face most familiar to them, with a drink she’d also acquired during her most recent watch escapade. “Fancy seeing you here,” she declares in a low, near sarcastic murmur, lips contorting into a smirk. “Have I ever told you how much I hate Eel?” She glances briefly to her left to ensure she still hadn’t been spotted. “If you find a way to turn this sucker into divinity, and quick,” —she briefly dangles her newest acquisition in front of him— “I’d be willing to give you a generous sum of the profit.”