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Not completely satisfied with your initial instinct, you rack your brains as you keep moving towards your room. You are trying to look at this situation here from all possible angles, trying to whip up some sharp little stratagem to get you out of this dump that doesn't involve either relying on dumb fraying luck or prancing through the common room again ... but by the time that you have made it back, the only improvement to either option that you have come up with is to stuff rags into the keyhole - hoping that the proprietor's fingers will be too fat to fish them out - and to take your talents with you, so if the worst came to pass, you could bail on the cart. Pattern's Perdition, you hope it wouldn't come to that. If there is some cleverer play here, then it eludes you.
Swearing under your breath in frustration, you unlock the door to your room, then head straight over to the cart, to where you buried the forty or so large-denomination talents. You pluck them all out ... and after a moment of consideration, the pouch of saffron that you ... actually, you don't even want to think about that now. With all of the valuables safely in your possession, stowed in the pockets of your dress, you pick a hearty looking rag out of one of the bundles then head straight to the door. After closing and locking it behind you, you are easily able to get the rag wadded and wedged up into the keyway of the lock with your almost uncannily long and slender fingers. When the time comes, digging it out might be a little tricky for you, but it should be practically impossible for anyone else. You are smiling to yourself, quite satisfied ... until you take a few steps down the hallway, and realize that you still have the Strange Incendiary strapped to your right leg. Swearing under your breath some more, you consider going back into the room and stashing it on the cart - but you decide against it. For all you know, Bertram could be back right now. That thought sends shivers down your spine, and your strides lengthen as you make your way back to the common room, doing your best to ignore the Strange Strains on the ground in front of you. All the while, you are trying to figure out what to say to the cad behind the counter - but when you finally get into the common room, you still haven't figured anything satisfactory.
"And just where are you off to, <span class="mu-i">little</span> one?"
Not that it would matter even if you had, the bastard has a real knack for getting under your skin, always making you feel - no, you cannot dwell on it.
"I'm - I need to take some air."
"Oh, you need to take something, alright."
Both of your faces blaze red - his from a fit of wheezing laughter and yours from a newly plumbed depth of shame. How can he say something so crass and vile? Still you can take some solace in the fact that he hasn't told you that -
"But before you go, I'll be needing that flagon back now."
Shit!
