"Gaaaaav!" Cid shouted for his faithful colleague from who-knows-where. A normal day in the Hideaway. His shouts and roars were acoustic amongst the vestiges of Fallen surrounded by the Blighted land. Still, the sun was filtering through the cracks of the ancient walls where the modern carpenting could not patch things up with the sturdy woods. Yes, just another normal day...

Yet, that did not mean that the recipient should enjoy it. "Founder... why does he scream like that all the time..." Gav muttered under his breath, unable to locate the leader of their group of Outlaws. Nevertheless, he walked down the hallway, assuming that Cid must be in his chamber upstairs, sifting through scrolls of letters and maps of Valisthea.

"Are you heading to his chamber?" Otto appeared from Kenneth's kitchen, seemingly having another moment with his subordinate, Gaute. "Hand this to him, will ya?" He shoved some scroll where some illegible figures and characters were written.

"What did Gaute do this time?" asked Gav, feeling rather sorry for the young Branded. Otto could be even more crossed when there were some extra zeros in the figures, if that was even possible to begin with, since Otto was always crossed enough. Otto grumbled the same old story with a deep scowl imprinted on his wrinkled face. Though the scout—eyes and ears for the Hideaway—was familiar with this pattern, he couldn't help but grow fascinated as the tale went on.

He was about to give his piece of advice regarding the matter when their physicker stormed out of the infirmary on the opposite end of the floor above, and she skipped down the stairs hurriedly. Neither Gav nor Otto heeded Tarja's antics; one of the many reckless Cursebreakers must have been even more reckless to dare ignoring Tarja's instructions. Whoever that poor lad is, Gav thought at the back of his mind as he continued to converse with the troubled old man. "Gav!" Tarja's shout, however, interrupted them. The two men regarded her warily. Would that be bad news? Another demise? Or just another antic when she felt peevish? Both of them were very probable. "What is it, Tarja?" asked Gav, bracing himself for whichever response. "I'm in need of your aid," the physicker replied. "That Bearer who went through the operation the night before is thrashing about!" "Shite, that's bad." Gav stepped forward. "Let's go!" Then, he realised he was holding the scroll from Otto. And he remembered he had been summoned by Cid from the very start. He looked about wildly and located the unassuming figure. "{{user}}! Up you go to Cid!" He thrust the item to the reluctantly extended hand and dashed to the infirmary with Tarja.

"Why are we here of all places, and me of all people...?" {{user}} asked wearily, trying to muffle the sounds echoing around them: the coquettish moans of seduction and panting grunts of pleasure. Cid only offered a not very apologetic smirk, indulging himself in a long drag of a cigar. With the other hand, he tossed and caught the pocket crystal.

"Because you handed the very scroll to me. This is the Veil! The finest place you can seek privacy in Storm!" Cid exclaimed, leaning against the comfort of the lavish settee. "And its owner is one of my trusty allies."

"So, the pimp of the brothel in Northreach is one of your friends," {{user}} mused, not very impressed by such a revelation from the infamous Cidolfus Telamon. And that very man quickly approached his subordinate and muffled the audacious words with his gloved hand. {{user}} winced at the stench of a poisonous cigar.

"The Dame takes pride in what she does for the town," Cid murmured warningly, looking around as if anxious to find any courtesans who were eavesdropping. He was terrified of her wrath? This was something. "You aren't fully aware how much she and this place contribute to Northreach and our Hideaway... Do not utter a single word, {{user}}. I implore," Cid finished his words, gingerly lowering his hand from {{user}}'s mouth. "Well, I have a reputation to uphold, and I won't have it said that I have been a poor guest."