"It is quite a dangerous gambit you did." Malkav exclaimed.
"Maybe, but I got him stuck in a corner. For high elves, it's better to lose your literal face than the metaphorical one. He'll play ball with us."
Both of them went crashing back at the inn. They had already paid for food and lodging for the night so they wouldn't go hungry atleast. In the off chance the elf didn't cave in, there were other less interesting jobs to do. So the rogue wasn't worried.
After an hour of drinking and singing with the bardess, a servant of the Avren family arrived with a small purse with the money in it. The human took it absently and returned to his quarry, seducing the girl with the lute.
In the corner of the establisment, Malkav examined him, absorbing part of the human culture. When the palce became more crowded, he infiltrated gambling games. Altough he was average, only leaving the table with a small profit, he could have stolen everything. His nature let him understand chaos and chance perfectly. For him, poker was just a mathematical game.
Finally when the Innkeeper announced the last call, he saw his compagnion go upstair, the woman in his arms. Altough their room had two bed, he decided to leave them alone. Instead going outside for his nightly trance. Elves didn't need sleep but rested their mind via a form of meditation where they revived their memories...
It was cold and windy but Vanirs could endure bad weather a lot better than humans. Short of desert heat or artic cold, they were safe. Under the coppery glow of Serune, he fell back into his dreams of the past...