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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Sparky" data-source="post: 4727309" data-attributes="member: 13681">(Hokey smokes! It's been since December since we posted!?) Oliver nods. When the boy moves on ahead to open the door, the old rogue looks around appraisingly at the area surrounding the cottage, the lines of sight... vectors of approach... Not great, but not too bad. He'd been in tighter spots. He steps in, eyes adjusting to the gloom. He half-listens to the boy as lad shows off the cottage's amenities. He murmurs appreciatively here and there. His eyes are on the furniture, layout, ingress and egress, light sources and how they might silhouette a resident in twilight or dark. At some he registers an expectant note in the boy's talking. "Eh? What's that? Uh, yes... no, no need for any butling. I would like a shave if you've someone." He doesn't need to check the stubble or the state of his garb, "And I'd like my clothes and small clothes seen to if possible. Thank you, lad. Weir, was it?" He fishes a coin from his pocket and flips it in a flickering arc. The boy opens his hand to catch it and the old rogue snatches it from the air a hand's breadth from the boys open palm. "And I'd like to know that I have visitors before I have visitors. Follow, lad?" The coin he puts back in the boy's palm is a different color. A weightier color.</blockquote>