"You're back."
The old man sat at a familiar stone table, sipping at his tea. He seemed like he was always there, and yet he also seemed like he was always at the front desk of the guild as well.
It was obvious to Theron that he just traveled back and forth, so he wasn't sure why the old man was insistent on pretending like this. It would have been a little cute if not for the fact that this man was trained to kill.
"I am." Theron said with a smile.
"The Thistles haven't killed you yet?"
"Not just yet. But maybe soon, who knows."
"You seem quite nonchalant about that."
"Isn't that part of an assassin's job? To be casual in the face of death?"
The old man took another sip of his tea and didn't answer immediately.
"Are you going to teach me anything, old man?"
"Did you go to the Imperial Capital?"
The response had nothing to do with Theron's question.
"I did. Why?"
"What did you do there?"
