Fewer people visited the clothier's shop in the Dock Ward as the snowfall continued into its third day.  Mr. Coppletop, the gnome proprietor of the shop, took the time to catch up on what they did have and he assisted the ladies in the back room with plans of listening for the door bell if a customer arrived.

He was of average sized for a gnome and seemed like he was still quite young for his race.  He kept his blonde hair long and tied back with a black ribbon while his sideburns followed his jawline and met at the chin.  His nose was wide at the base and his nostrils often flared as he was focused on his work.  His clothes were of fine quality all things considered with deep green trousers, a tan tunic and brown overcoat.  His shoes even had buckles which was highly unusual on this side of Waterdeep.

The furniture in the establishment were obviously meant for humans as Mr. Coppletop's feet dangled from his chair as he stitched the hem of a sleeve.

A fire burned in a nearby stove where an empty kettle rested, having been left there from the noon tea.  A pile of five split logs of wood stacked between it and the wall.  One shuddered window rested across from it where a draft occasionally slipped through every time the wind picked up.

Finished work was either hung inside a door-less closet or folded neatly inside small crates.

Nira and Anabelle sat on stools with the garments they were working on in their laps, huddled fairly close to the stove.

Mr. Coppletop finished and sat back with a sigh, resting his hand on his plump tummy.  "I think that's quite enough for today, ladies.  I'm going to close the shop early because of this weather."  He stood and fished in his pockets before he produced 4 silver pieces, which he divided and placed in the women's hands.

"Consider this a tip for your devotion and venturing out during these frigid days.  Might I suggest you treat yourself to something at Warm Beds around the block?"

Anabelle smiled as she took her share.  "That's very generous of you, Mr. Coppletop.  Thank you."

"Yes, well, snow means lean times for many of us Docksiders, but business has been good and I have some extra saved up.  Take advantage of it while you can.  Clean up here once you're finished and you may leave out the back."

With that, he winked at Nira and disappeared into the shop area through a swinging door.

Mister Coppletop was the first gnome Nira had ever met- there weren't many in Amn.

Nira thanked him enthusiastically for the extra money, and smiled at her temporary boss while putting her share away (before anything else happened to it).

Once he was gone, Nira set about finishing up the last bits of work she had to do (so no-one would have to pick the slack up later), and putting it away in the right place before getting ready to go.

It didn't take long- all her belongings now fit in one basket, including the blanket she slept on/under and was now tying up as a sort of inexpensive cloak against the cold.

Now, Nira could guess what Warm Beds had, from the name, but she'd never been before. She turned to her coworker.

"What've they got there, I wonder? Aside from the beds, I mean." she asked, phrasing it as a joke with her new Waterdhavian-sounding voice. Annabelle had coached Nira (or "Sara") in the fine points of not-sounding-like-a-mark, and also to not drop her local accent or name anywhere they might be overheard.

Though she did not laugh, Anabelle gave Nira a cheeky smile.  "It's one of the INNs in Dockside that travelers are drawn to.  A bit posh for two maidens like us."

She flapped out the shirt she was working on and examined her work before folding it up and placing it in a crate.  "Although, I admit that it would be nice to have a hot meal made of more than oats or broth."

She grew silent as she donned her brown cloak and slipped her hair into a knighted cap, pulling it up to her brow.  The seamstress held her hands up to the stove and rubbed them together before being the first to exit.

Outside, the snow did fall, in large hunks of flakes linked together.  In the alley behind the shop, there was no wind which gave the corridor a stillness and quiet that could be considered peaceful.  Crates and barrels were stacked near most of the back doors of the shops.

As they emerged onto the street, the wind picked up only slightly, but enough to send a chill against their back.  The uneven streets were plowed irregularly, certainly not enough to keep up with the constant snowfall.  This left the streets uneven and slushy with walk-worn paths.

Pedestrians stuck to the clearest tracks made by wagons and horse as most of the sidewalks were covered with dunes of snow drifts.

"Do you want to go?" Anabelle finally asked. "We can splurge a little to celebrate our last night in the Dock Ward."

The announcement was a bit of a surprise as there had been no prior discussion of leaving.

"Ah, why not?" Nira answered, trying to sound casual about the nicest meal she'd stand to have in a week.

Nira made no great reaction to the notice of leaving, though she had been pushing for just that thing since she got there. (Places to go, people to even accounts with, after all.) This city had more ears than a cornfield, and so Nira figured that if Anabelle hadn't told her, it was with good reason.

The Inn wasn't far from the shop as the two maidens trekked two blocks and around a corner.  Still, it was a treacherous journey of difficult, icy terrain and frigid wind.  It was a wonder how the commoner's functioned and went about their business in this weather.

The Warm Beds INN was a sprawling three-story timber-framed building with shiny hardwood floors. Inside, they found a spacious common area with a hot fire pit in the middle surrounded by tables. Closer to the walls were couches and chairs with frayed low-end upholstery. A bar and till rested against the right wall with a door behind it (presumably to a kitchen) and a doorway beside it, leading to ascending stairs.

It was quite lively within.  Groups of people of various races filled the seats at the tables while the over-flow took up a few coaches.  A circle of six played cards at one table while a young male human fiddler danced on a nearby one.  The music barely audible over the murmur of the crowd.

Near the door where they entered, a male elf and female human danced to the fiddler's tune, though their movements didn't quite match.

A whole pig was spit across the fire pit where a grim looking elf turned the crank to evenly cook the swine.  The greasy hot scent of pork assailed their noses as soon as the warm air touched their cheeks.

Anabelle inhaled with a smile.  "Gods, wish we had stayed here all these months."

Nira came in, stomping the snow off her feet at the door, as she looked around the room. Not for the first time, she thought that she asked to experience a Waterdeep winter, so it didn't make sense to complain when she got the extra-large portion.

It was still cold out.



[OOC: Without calling attention to it, Nira gives them a casual once-over. Like, is it her impression that they're just bad dancers, or are they 'pretending' to dance with each other, to blend in?]



"Right along with you.", Nira agreed.

Nira handed over her basket and quietly suggested that Anabelle find a couple of decent free spots (holding a seat with the basket), while Nira got them set up with drinks and something to eat.

On the way by (to the first obvious person working), Nira took a look at the card-game, to see if it was one she was familiar with.

(Nira knew quite a few- from childhood games (like Here!) to the genteel 'parlor' card games her mother taught her (like Tenacity) to the ones she'd learned around the groves, to ones she'd picked up from the crew on the long trip from Amn to Waterdeep (like, judging from how often it was shouted in play, Godsdamn You, You Cheating Whoreson.)
This message was last edited by the player at 18:22, Wed 08 Feb 2023.

The dancing couple as they entered were obviously a little inebriated and, to be fair, the fiddler could hardly be heard this far away.  Nira suspected they were just trying to have a good time without moving elsewhere.

As Nira made her way to the bar, she gave some of her attention to the card table to find they were playing Whist, laying down cards one by one to match the suit of the previous card.  When the round was done, the player with the highest in-suit card (or a trump card) won the pile and added it to their stack.

She stopped at the bar where a tall Turami man with a mahogany complexion and short wiry hair moved from patron to patron, filling wood & wax steins with ales, wines and spirits.  He wore a split-colored brown & green vest over his long-sleeved undershirt and fingerless leather gloves.

He finally made his way to the maiden and gave her a smile with well kept teeth - an unusual commodity in Dockside. "Well, hello, my dear.  Haven't seen you before and I think I'd remember that face!  What can I get you?  The house ale is always good, but we have a special on mulled wine and, if you're hungry, Pork stew is a-plenty and popular, but I recommend the blackened sausage." He gave her a wink.

Nira looked over to where Anabelle was, waved to get her attention, and made two gestures with a quizzical expression. One was holding a fist out parallel to her chest as if holding a beer stein, and the other was an over-exaggerated version of holding a wine-goblet.

(Nira was reasonably sure that they served the mulled wine in a mug, but making the 'mug' gesture would just confuse matters.)

[OOC: Nira goes with an ale for herself, whatever drink Anabelle goes with, and two stews.]

...finishing their order, she adds "I'm sure the sausage's fine, though." with what she assumes is a playful-but-not-actually-engaging tone.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:39, Fri 10 Feb 2023.

Anabelle had managed to secure a table on the other side of the fire pit.  She smiled at Nira's exaggerated gestures and then mimicked the one for wine.

Nira turned back and placed her order.

"You got it, lovely," the bartender replied.

Another man came up beside Nira. "Nelson! Can I get another round for me and my friends?"

He turned to smile at the maiden and when they made eye contact, Nira recognized the dark eyes and the dreadlocks that were bunched and tied on the back of his head.  Matteo wore an attire that was closer to a merchant's than a noble's, which allowed him to blend in with the other patrons and likely why she hadn't spotted him before.

His handsome smile got bigger when he recognized her too.  "Lady Saestago!"  He looked her up and down for a moment. "I see you found the wisdom in my suggestion of experiencing the lower ends of Waterdeep in the winter.  Much more lively, don't you agree?"

Nira, internally, stamped down her panic. Of all the stupid luck!

She couldn't very well pretend he didn't see her, he did. She couldn't very well pretend to be someone else, she was nowhere near that good yet.

Luckily, she thought of something to thread that needle.

Leaning in, carefully, so as not to give too much suggestion of informality, but also not cause anyone else to take notice, she touches her finger to her lips in a "sh!" gesture, and then quietly spoke to Matteo. She put a slightly mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"Steady, now! You'll lose me the game! she said in her best approximation of how awful her Waterdhavian accent was at first.
"I'm s'posed not t'ave anyone notice 'm 'ere, see?"

Matteo echoed her gesture and it was then she noticed how inebriated he was when he staggered slightly and caught himself on the bar with his elbow. _{"Ah, I see, fair maiden,"} he whispered, playing along. _{"And what be your name?"} He too took on a less noble inflection, though much better than hers.

He looked about as if he were searching the room for the other players in this "game". "Might I buy you a drink, pretty lady whom I've never met before?" he asked a little louder.

""Fertha", tis. And thankeew, but'd bet'er naht, sir, m'accent gets BAD when I've been in my cups." she continues, quietly, suggesting that this...thing... was the best she could do.


"Must go- game's not over, yet. There's something of a bet on it, too, so I'm keen not to lose. Lovely to see you though." she finished, in her quietest voice.

And, in a way, it was. It meant she was close to home.

Nira was tempted to add something like "ask me to tell you about it when you see me again", or some other thing meant to trip up the impostor (should she meet Matteo), but... that could end up backfiring and hurting Matteo, who (after all) didn't seem to have done anything to be hurt over.

His lips pursed together as he seemed to consider something, then he leaned in and tried to keep his voice as low as he could manage without being drowned out by the crowd. "_{I hoped to see you again. No visit or letter... I feared mother had scared you off.}"  His hand slipped onto hers, quite boldly if gently.

Nelson returned with her ale and mulled wine, both in waxed mugs. "Here be the drink, m'lady! I'll send a server to your table with the stew. It may be a few minutes though."  He paused at the intimate posture Matteo had and cleared his throat.  "Mattie, don't be troublin' the lady. She looks like she's had a long day."

Matteo leaned back, his complexion darkening slightly. "No trouble, Nelson," he said almost glumly. "I was just saying goodbye."

He nodded to Nira. "Miss Fertha." Then he walked away, steadying himself on chairs and a few shoulders that gained him curious looks.

"Sorry about that. I'm sure he meant no harm. Mattie's a good kid, but he's been in the drink a lot lately."

Nira, as definitely as she could without attracting even more attention, nodded in understanding to the barman, and headed back to Anabelle.

"Here's the drink, food's coming." she said, in her actual-fake Waterdeep accent, much more convincingly.

Without any particular show of subterfuge, she asked. "D'you see that?", and hoped Anabelle had, so she didn't have to provide context out loud.

Nira was, as she recalled, abducted right as she was about to ask Anabelle for her opinion on the young man. Truth be told, she was still mildly curious.

Anabelle's expression was very serious when Nira returned and she took the mulled wine without acknowledging the comment about the food.  She held the mug between both of her hands and Nira suspected that her eyes were locked on Matteo across the room behind Nira.

"I did," she replied about whether she saw the encounter. "I thought I'd let you handle it.  You seem to have well enough since you went your separate ways. What happened?"

"He thought I was someone else- Nob' type." Nira answered, trying to maintain character. "He got the message- 'whoever she was, she's not here '."

In a lower voice she added "Drunk as a drunk thing. Dunno if he really left- 's he watching us, still?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:17, Thu 16 Feb 2023.

Anabelle shook her head. "No, he looks like he's about ready to pass out," she commented with no inflection of subtly. "I suspect he may not even remember the encounter, but that doesn't mean it's not something we should be worried about."

She held her mug by the handle and drank her wine in an unladylike way, having always been able to easily carry the façade they had practiced since the beginning of autumn.  She finally took her eyes off of Matteo and focused on Nira.

Her demeanor suddenly changed to feigned outrage as a man who looked very similar to Nelson approached with two bowls of stew. "...and I told him he can keep his fish hands to himself! I'm not lookin' to become a sailor's widow like mama."

The server placed the bowls down in front of them and deposited two wooden spoons in the middle.  With a smile at both of them, he nodded and retreated back into the crowd.

Anabelle left the spoons alone.  She set down her mug and picked up the bowl with both hands, tipping it to sip the broth. When she set it down, staring at the stew, Nira recognized that thin line her mouth had become that creased crescent lines on either side. She was contemplating something.

"Maybe this is Waukeen smiling upon us," she said, looking back up to meet Nira's eyes. "We have an opportunity here.  Regardless of his intention, he may be what we need to get some answers.  And I don't think he's faking how drunk he is."

Nira followed suit- from the wine to the stew, to laughing a bit too loudly at Anabelle's story.

"You don't say." she says to Ana's suggestion. "What's the job, and when do we start?"

Anabelle leaned in and lowered her voice just enough so Nira could barely hear her over the murmur of the crowd around them. "We separate him from his friends and take him back with us. If he's truly drunk, we could try to manipulate some information out of him. If not... We may need to subdue him."

She sat back and picked up her spoon, scooping up a bit of meat and potatoes. "Either way, I think it may be time to get to know him a bit better," she said a bit louder.
This message was last updated by the player at 20:43, Tue 21 Feb 2023.

Nira, hoping that subtlety was still open for business, looked over at Matteo and hoped to get his attention by eye-contact.

It took a little time for her to gain eye contact with Matteo.  He kept his head down, staring at the mug in front of him between drinks.  It wasn't until one of the mates at his table nudged him and gestured to Nira.

Matteo did a double-take when he noticed she was looking at him.  He gave a slight smile.

Nira pulled the cards from her basket and held them up.

"My friend an' me's gonna have a friendly game. Want to be friends-like?" she asked, laying her fake-terrible accent on thick.

The little lord almost shot up from his seat and stumbled around one of his friends at the table as he made his way to Nira.  The others men he had been with guffawed at his eager clamber.

When he reached the table, he turned the empty chair around and slouched against it, causing the back to clack against the table.

Anabelle couldn't suppress her own smile. "Sir..." She offered him a crooked nod.

His eyebrows went up when he recognized the handmaiden but pursued the epiphany no further. Instead he turned his attention on Nira and leaned in to whisper. "_{What of your other game?}"

Nira looked at Anabelle in a way that essentially asked "Well? How's it going?"

"Nawh, I'm not sure, but ai think I'm ahead, sir- enough for this small flourish."