The tavern was thick with noise and smoke, its earth struggling to warm the damp chill of the night. Aesira sat alone at a shadowed table, hood pulled low, her sharp features cast in flickering firelight. A half-empty mug sat within reach, untouched for some time, as her piercing gaze swept the room like a hawk sizing up prey.

She felt it before she saw it - a prickle at the nape of her neck, the uncanny awareness of being watched. Her hand fell instinctively to the hilt of the dagger at her hip, its familiar weight a silent reassurance.

The figure stood at the bar, hooded like herself, except, they weren't drink, or talking...just waiting. Their stance was casual, but there was something calculated about the way they leaned, the way their gloved fingers tapped rhythmically against the counter.

When the figure finally turned, their gaze met hers across the tavern - a look of recognition, or perhaps invitation. The noise of the room seemed to dull, the distance between them charged with unspoken intent. Aesira leaned back, one hand still on her dagger, and waited for them to make their first move.