[ He takes the painting back from her, sliding it back into the deep pocket on the inside of his coat. In shadow, it'll be hard to see. If the watch managed to wrangle them into the light, though, it would be difficult to hide.

They won't be caught, though. He's sure of it.

Hopping off the crate, he rebalances easily and joins her as they make their way out of the abandoned restaurant and towards the street that'll lead them to dinner. It's not too far. ]

The merchant council would have to get their heads out of their asses first. I wouldn't count on that this century.

[ They like to cater to the merchers and middle class. It didn't matter that plenty of commerce and taxes were paid up collectively by the gangs in the Barrel. They were just dirt on a shoe to sneer at. ]

I'll take them recognizing they've got a wolf on their doorstep if they aren't going to show respect.

[ Better fear than nothing at all. They've grown comfortable. He's seen where that gets people—Haskell being one of them. He had a building falling down around his ears and a gang that was as feared as a bent spoon.

That's changed in the past few years. Because he'd been willing to take risks, even if he had to drag Per Haskell kicking and screaming into his schemes.

Her next comment has him snorting derisively. She was so observant and yet, this. ]

Oh yes, the monster of the Barrel ending up with a modest home and flower boxes in the window. Don't be a ridiculous podge, Inej.