The tavern was loud and warm, filled with the smell of roasting meat and spilled ale. Geralt sat at a corner table, hunched over his bowl of stew, occasionally sipping from his mug.

At the other end of the room, a young, suspicious looking person, crept along the walls, glancing nervously at the grey haired man. The purse at the man’s side looked heavy, full, and irresistible.

They froze everytime somebody moved.

Geralt ate his food, feeling something's off but let it happen, why? Boredom. Curiosity.

Their heart pounded as they made a small grab for the strap, praying he wouldn't notice.