Do you want to come over and play card games

The man's breath was slow, shallow. He kept darting his eyes this way and that, as if he were expecting to see something in the folds of perfumed fabric that hung all within the tea house. His hands, wrapped somewhat clammily around the porcelain teacup, seemed to agitate easily, and Stray saw him continually tap his little finger on his left hand. After another of his long pauses, he leaned forward again, and spoke in his low, hurried voice through the ambient sound of the other customers.

"If you say you are sure of it," he began, "then I have no choice but to trust your judgment. Still, this place feels a little too claustrophobic for me to really be able to relax." He sipped at the cup, and lowered it again. "The fact of the matter is, I was expecting something a little more private than a table amongst so many people."

Stray stretched their arms above their head, and rested their chin on one clawed hand. "If you want to go unseen, you should try to be unremarkable. Someone will always find you if you hide, but if you don't seem like the type worth looking for you can walk the streets in broad daylight and nobody will bat an eye."

The nervous man set the cup down, and interlaced his fingers in front of him. "Well, let us cut to the thick of it, then. I've discovered what I can only describe as a portal in the woods near my house. Word around town says that you're the one to talk to when it comes to strange, possibly-magical things, so..."

"Your rumours were correct," Stray replied. "I've seen many things in my travels, and have travelled far." They looked again at the man across the table from them, took in the details. He was clearly from money, that much was easy to ascertain from the lace bunched at his throat and the shiny buttons that ran down the front of his coat. The tapping of the little finger continued, what Stray guessed was a nervous tick that the man had never learned to disguise. Most importantly, however, were the very faint remnants of what might have been chemical burns on the man's fingers, the minute discoloration of his skin that told tales of either brewing or alchemy. "So, what is it then? You want me to go and take a look at your portal?"

"Niserie's bloody pages, I'd like to to get rid of it! I've already got enough to worry about from the people in this ruddy town, I do not need the extra stress of a floating mirror that leads to hell or something in my bloody garden!" the man exclaimed, trying to keep his voice hushed even as his excitement rose. "Look, you're the expert, you go and turn the thing off and I will pay you whatever fee you set down right now. I can't sleep, I can't work, I can barely breathe thinking about what might come skittering through that etheric rip." He pushed a slip of parchment across the table, a sort of informal contract that Stray had seen many times before.

Stray took a long moment before placing a fingertip on the parchment. "You're right," they began. "I am the expert. Or, rather more correctly, was. I'm retired. I don't really do the sellsword thing much these days. Surely you can find someone else to make your house call." They began to push the parchment back, but the nobleman put his hand down on Stray's.

"Just this once. Please. If it isn't dangerous, you've made a heap of coin for no work, and if it is dangerous, you've got the experience and capability to get it done that any other poor sod who'd be willing to write their name lacks. Who knows how many naïve little heroes-to-be might meet their end simply because you did not want to do a bit of work?" His eyes were tired, but even through the haze of what must have been three long nights spent awake Stray could see the desperation and pleading.

They sighed, picked up their own cup, and let the warm mint wash down their throat. Truthfully, they could use the money. The last few months had seen a bit of a downturn in the weight of their wallet, ever since their niece Lico found her way into that forsaken card game habit. Frankly Stray didn't exactly understand, but if the little cards with their fancy illustrations made their niece happy, then they were more than willing to spend the extra coin.

That is, until the vendors in the market began raising their prices.

So, looking again at the nobleman's parchment, they narrowed their eyes and drew it back toward them. "Any fee I like, you say?"

"Anything at all, so long as you get rid of the blasted thing. I cannot stress enough how unsettling it is, thrumming and glowing in the dark out there. I'll even give you... ten percent? Ten percent now, and the rest when you've dealt with it."

Stray picked up the quill with resignation, and read quickly over the slip of parchment. This was a rich client, one who probably had never hired a sellsword before. After a moment of hesitation, they scribbled a number on the "amount" line that would make most common folk swoon in their boots, and scratched their name at the bottom.

"Gods, thank you! I was beginning to think there was nothing to be done about this whole thing," the man said, glancing at the parchment before drawing a handful of glittering coins from a thick leather wallet and counting them out on the table. Just this small amount was more than most would see in an entire season, but the man-- now the patron-- didn't even bat an eye as he set the stacks of coins down. "I'll have a coach for you as soon as you're ready to come back to my estate with me. We will leave by tonight, if that is agreeable to you?"

Stray's eyes had glossed over for a moment, the carefree manner of handling this much money throwing them off mental balance. Slowly, they nodded, and began to collect the coins from the table. "T...tonight, yes, of course."

"Excellent." The nobleman stood, eyes darting again around the room. "Meet me out front when you are ready." Somewhat hurriedly, the man bustled out of the teahouse. Still in a bit of a stupor, Stray held up one of the large coins and watched it glitter in the lamplight.

"Ah... excuse me, Matron? I think I'd like to pay off my tab, please."