St. Ignatius' Brothel,
Outskirt Region of Aegremonth.
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"You were dressing up to leave tonight, weren't you?"
The girl laughed. She was trotting up to the window place as if drawn unconsciously to the skyward peek of the flaccid moon. Something about its pale brightness was pulling her toward it. The dimness of the store room did not seem to matter, as much as the many boxed-up liquor gallons that littered the floor. Tall pillars stood at several angles of this empty room, so tall and thick that they'd probably hidden the observer who was following her scent all the while. She had heard him, and had missed him but would always tease him by ignoring he had even said a thing at all. Just before she could pick up her heels to mount on the circular lidded wooden chest near the wall of the window, in the pretext of wanting to feel the air from that side, he caught up to her.
