For the moment would do. They didn't have excessively far to go.
And Aurin wasn't too bad at hopping rooftops, but at the same time, Azabeth was glad she had revised her plans; there were several places in her other prospective paths where the beams and shingles would not have held seventeen stone of muscle and armor, not as easily as her own lithe weight, and the last thing they needed was Aurin crashing through some poor impoverished family's ceiling in the middle of a rainstorm. So. Sturdier roofs, and broader paths, and the end of the journey in tense rainlit silence was Azabeth balancing on a precarious sill to jimmy open a window, the lockpicks sure in her long fingers, even glittering and slick with water. She was kind enough to help maneuver Aurin's bulk through the window, though, and good thing - the only door in the single-room apartment was blockaded by a set of dresser-drawers, from the inside, and it looked as if it had been there for quite some time.
The safehouse wasn't a well-used one, the entire place barely qualifying as a closet in upper-echelon homes, but there was a small hearth and a cot, no debris and only one mouse, who promptly scampered under the dresser at sign of intruders. Azabeth waited till Aurin was safely over the sill and on solid flooring again before doffing her cloak, the thick fabric soaked through with rain and muck, hanging it near the hearth before crouching to go about lighting a fire.
"You get yourself in the most interesting trouble, wolf," she noted, her back exposed and aware of it, but she hardly though Aurin was going to attack her while they were both soaked to the bone, and she had just saved his ass from being scraffed on the cobbles.