A deep, muffled sigh is the only noise coming from EvilTactician as he strolls through the noisy bar and makes his way over to the booth where he usually conducts meetings which require more ‘discretion’. For the briefest of moments, a cloaked individual already sitting in the booth looks up from a pitcher of ale and some official documents which look like they’d definitely not belong in this kind of establishment.
Without any real acknowledgement of each other, Evil takes a seat and lets his body relax. A motion with his hands signals one of the girls working in the bar, though no words are exchanged and no order is taken. Silence lingers for a few minutes, after which the girl returns with another pitcher and an unmarked data pad. Evil gives the girl a faint smile, and hands her his credit chip.
“Deduct the agreed amount, and take enough to replace that monstrosity outside you call transportation - before you kill yourself”
The girl smiles back, makes a brief curtsy and turns around to get back to the other patrons. A quick glance around re-assures Evil that nobody in the bar is paying them any attention whatsoever. lifting the data pad slowly, he presses a few buttons and starts reading. As his eyes scan the page, he grasps for his pitcher, empties it in one go, and carefully places it back on the table. The cloaked individual is the first to break the silence in a rather solemn sounding voice.
‘Is it done?’
“…Yes…”, Evil responds, whilst sliding the pad across the table.
The cloaked individual looks up in earnest, the light revealing the facial features of a woman. She picks up the data pad and starts reading slowly. Halfway the page she looks back up with a genuinely shocked expression on her face.
‘Damn. How reliable is this intel?’
“We wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure.”
The woman turns off the pad and sticks it in one of the inside pockets of her cloak, short enough for nobody but Evil to spot the traces of the uniform of an Imperial officer. She slowly rises to get up, whilst pulling her cloak back in place in order to once again cover her identity. Another deep sigh as Evil looks back down at his now empty pitcher. He feels a comforting hand placed on his shoulder as the woman slowly indicates the intention to depart.
‘Don’t worry, we’re all in this together. I’ll be in touch soon.’
A nod in acknowledgement as Evil slowly looks back up from his pitcher, but the woman has already vanished among the crowd. “I really wish she’d stop doing that.” Evil mutters to himself. Lifting his right hand to softly touch what seems like the inside of his right ear, he speaks to seemingly no-one at all.
“…Proceed as planned…”