The tavern hummed with raucous energy, the air thick with the pungent aroma of stale ale and the acrid tang of cheap tobacco. In a shadowed corner, away from the boisterous crowd, Vivira lounged in her chair, her posture deceptively relaxed as she idly toyed with a spread of cards. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, roamed over the room, taking in every detail, every drunken smile and furtive glance.
Leaning forward, she fixed her gaze on the grizzled sailor across from her, her voice low and beguiling. "Another round, Saul?" she arched a delicate brow.
Saul grunted, his eyes narrowing as he studied his cards. "Aye, why not?" he muttered, tossing a few tarnished coins onto the growing pile at the center of the table. "Feeling lucky tonight, are we?"
