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Looking to buy yourself a little more time to mull, you take up the knocker once more, and make a series of marginally louder knocks. As far as you can tell though, there is still no response forthcoming from the Coaching house, while behind you the driver is making a noise lost somewhere between a guffaw and a throat-clearing, accompanying it with reports even more vigorous from the bench suffering away underneath him. Fighting the urge to fidget as you wait, you find yourself becoming more frustrated than afraid. Of all of the incidental complications that could have happened, of all of the misfortunes that might have - and might still - befall you tonight, you never thought you would be so thoroughly undermined by something as stupid as this! Time is so impossibly precious right now; minutes alone may make the difference between a clean break and becoming the subject of a Hunt, and you have just about burnt one of them waiting on someone to get themselves to this damned, fraying door!
As anger pushes aside anxiety, and you try to master yourself, so not to rouse any <span class="mu-i">more</span> suspicion, make any <span class="mu-i">more</span> of a scene, a thought manages to take root in the beleaguered soil between your ears. This driver ... to be sure, he is far from harmless, but in the past few days, you have handled men much more dangerous - by the Heights of Hell, you managed to talk yourself out of suspicion to a <span class="mu-i">Master Abbot</span> of the Inquisition! More than that, he things you are trustworthy enough to take testimony from. You ... you can do this! And it simply cannot be gainsaid that you are going to be better off if it is you dictating the conversation here, not him. With that, you about face as smartly as you can with the limited space on the landing of the step, and directly address the driver, who inexplicably seems to be pleasantly surprised by your newfound interest in him.
"How long have you been waiting here, exactly?"
"Whut? Oh ... been a while, hasn't it. Was enjoying meself at the table, with food, and the custom too - talking up the Guild, the adventure of it all, the work - while the boss-man was trimmin' talents with the proprietor. Then - and this was well before the Hour of Change, mind ya - Master Sulphreme comes on out, says he's done cinched it up, and tells me to get the lead out. So I get the lead out, knowing that I now gotsta wait while <span class="mu-i">he</span> enjoys <span class="mu-i">hisself</span> at the table with the food and the custom. Decent sort in this place, looking like clubbed rabbits at the news - if it weren't for news of the excitement on the road, not a one of 'em would be up so late ..."
