You were in a tavern. It tried to capture that old-fashioned DnD atmosphere. In the dim corner sat a roguish figure in a white cloak. He was grumbling, trying to cut a loaf of bread with a butter knife. He was hardly the image of your typical assassin.

Scale: "Stupid waiter! This would be so much easier with my daggers! They're cool as heck!" He scoffed and grumbled angrily as he struggled with his meal.