Ofelia/Kiernan/OPEN Once bitten, twice shy. Those words were chasing themselves around her head, a litany of self-reproach reminding that she really truly ought to have known better. Ofelia had already learnt her lesson -- she'd gotten horrifically injured and almost died defending this damned city. Once in a week was enough. The docks could look after themselves. She did not have to go back out there.
-- but of course, that meant she had to. Their handhelds started buzzing: hers with a message from Lea about the warehouses, and his with multiple announcements from the Fighters Guild. (Do-gooders, all.) The next few minutes were a tangle of limbs, extricating themselves from the bed, tossing Kiernan his clothes, hurriedly getting dressed and stumbling out into the afternoon with a few choice profanities for what awaited them. Ofelia snatched her two decks of cards and slid them into her belt, casting a worried eye on how much thinner they had gotten, feeling the diminished deck beneath her fingertips. She hadn't had time for the new cards to get crafted and arrive in the mail. Fee couldn't possibly be ready for another fight, not this soon.
But that's what she had a big, strong dragoon for, yes?
"You're sure we can't just change our mind and go back?" she laughed, but it rang false. The nerves were there, simmering just beneath the surface for the people who knew her better -- which Kiernan did. "Brunch in bed sounds like much more fun than this. I don't do heroics on Sundays. Faram says this is a day of rest."