Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24449631-20140827094909/@comment-5543592-20140828000856

Fritjof tittered back and forth on the balls of his feet whilst expecting payment. Dirge was giving him a stink eye, which made Fritjof widen his own and look away. Eventually his contact, who he still didn't know by name, walked back into the Ragged Flagon. The man was definately a Nord, with long brown hair and wore the garb of a Master Thief.

"Alright, Fritjof." Said the man in the thickest accent Fritjof had ever heard. "Here's your payment." He dramatically dropped a heavy bag of coins into the Nightblade's hand.

"But this is a one time favor.  For a friend.  Don't let me catch you around here again.  Camonna thugs are bad for buisness." Fritjof simply nodded politely to let the Nord know he understood. It wasn't the first time someone had insulted him like that. He doubted it would be the last.

"You won't see me again.  If I can help it, you won't hear of me either." Said Fritjof. He was turning to leave with the Nord stopped him with a beckon of the hand.

"Where are you going?  You said you've been walking since Morrowind.  Don't you know you can't run forever, lad?"

Fritjof gave the thief a funny look. "You just kicked me out and said I could never come back.  Don't expect me to give you any answers now."

The Nord spread his arms wide and looked at the Imperial, who was just about his height. "I'm a curious fellow.  I can't help it."

Fritjof gave a curt wave, pulled his hood up, and then slid his inner hood into place. In not even a second he had disappeared into the shadows.

The thief shook his head and began heading back towards the cistern. "How in Oblivion does he do that..." Brynjolf muttered.