Ariadne watched on as her fellow bounty hunters shared tales of grand adventure and even grander exploits from their past over drinks. They did this often after finishing a job, yet she hardly ever thought the successful capture of some petty thief was worth this much fanfare.

Still, she didn't stop them. The distraction was a welcome one, if only to prevent the silence from lingering for too long.

Ariadne herself saw no use in going into detail about her own past, not when it would've only complicated things. Not when it was still an open wound, still as raw as ever, despite the years that had passed. The loss of her brother remained, staining every thought with regret. Eiran's face was merely a memory, his voice a dim whisper. She prayed she'd still recognize it if she were to find him again.

Ariadne took another sip of the wine, watching the liquid swirl in the glass. The Silver Hound, they called her. She had earned just about every sobriquet under the sun for taking down everyone and anyone with a bounty on their head. The fame meant painfully little when faced with the reality of her loss.

When she finally looked up, she recognized the look of quiet concern on one of her teammates's faces.

"Oh, uhm, is something up?" She asked, her voice unsure, much to her annoyance. For as skilled a warrior as she was, she could never seem to hold any conversation besides meaningless chatter.