[Siana/Open/back of the inn, outside]
"You're not going to the ball?" her sister had sighed yesterday. "You're never going to find yourself a husband if you're working all the time."
Siana hadn't the heart to tell her that not only was getting married near the bottom of her list of priorities -- if it happened, it happened, but she was not intent on seeking it out herself, especially not after Shad -- but that she had actually volunteered to work the perimeter security at the inn during the ball. It was either that or risk another night in the sewers, though at the time she never would have suspected that her partner would have wound up hospitalized. Still, with the inn hiring private guards for the inside of the inn and directly outside, Siana's primary job was making sure that the irate guests and drunkards they threw out wouldn't cause further trouble, and to keep an eye out, again, for opportunist scoundrels: pickpockets and stalkers in the shadows, mostly. The guards at the inn could handle the rest -- she hoped.
She paced along the backside of the inn, her hand resting on her sheathed katana and her armor recently shined. ("It's a ball," said her captain to the tiny handful of peacekeepers working the block, rolling his eyes, "and the Sackheim wants us to put up appearances.") It was quiet back here, at least, and she would be content to stay the entire night. It was easier to catch anything out of place than with the crowd at the front or the trickling guests along the sides, after all.