Lwargrave

Vane peered at the sleek dressed man in front of her, the suspiciously well-dressed man. “What are you, my personal tour guide?” She snarked, crossing her arms, “Call me Vane, and I don’t think you’re necessarily on the top of the list of who I tell my business to,” she adds. “All I need is for you to point me in the direction of somewhere quiet, somewhere that’s not near all these-“ she motioned to the busy street before her, “-tourist traps.”