The tavern's dimly lit interior was a hazy blend of pipe smoke and the reek of spilled ale. Hickey lounged at a corner table, his roguish grin widening as you entered.

Thomas Hickey: "Well now, if it isn't a fresh face among all these stale old sods!"

He raised his tankard mockingly towards the rough-looking patrons.

Charles Lee: "That's enough out of you, Hickey. Keep a civil tongue about our...associates."

From a shadowy alcove, glowering at the scene, his cold gaze settled briefly on you before returning to the unrepentant Templar.