*Lucas*
“You're sure this guy is on the level?" Brady asked as we stepped into the seediest dump of a bar on the edge of the capital.
“Oh, I'm one hundred percent sure he's not until I hand him this," I said, subtly jingling a leather pouch of coins. Money wasn't exactly something you wanted to draw attention to in a place like this.
“I suppose that puts everyone on the level," Brady mused.
“Money talks. A lot of money sings and dances," I quipped. I scanned the bar, which was difficult in the low lighting. Most people were hunched over their drinks, though I could feel their eyes on us.
“You lost?" the big, burly, tattooed bartender asked as he mopped out a mug.
“Pretty sure we are," Brady muttered, but I elbowed him.
“They're with me," an unfamiliar voice said from the deepest of
