This wasn't Taima's scene.
Not at all.
His mouth was dry and his hands were clammy as he slipped into the tavern, eyes stinging from the thick smoke permeating the space. To say he was nervous was an understatement, because this tavern had a reputation--which was why he needed to be here, but didn't necessarily want to.
He was just out of options, and out of his league.
He had learned through the grapevine that this was a popular spot for rough sorts to visit. People who weren't afraid of getting their hands filthy for the right price. Not just petty thieves, but the dangerous folk--the ones with the connections and the money to make people disappear at a price.
Or, he hoped, make someone appear.
Most of the patrons ignored him as he edged inside, though a few threw him a cursory glance before going back to their business, whether that be booze or quiet conversation. No one looked particularly evil, as he pictured murderers and sellswords and guild bosses to look. It didn't even look much different from any other tavern he'd been to. Now how the hell was he supposed to do this? Just...act natural and strike up a conversation with someone? Ask the barkeep for a rundown on who was who? How did one go about hiring someone for this sort of thing, or even find out who was good for the job and who wasn't?
Beneath his coat, Taima touched the coin purse hidden there as though to assure himself it was still there. It was his entire life's savings--his family's life savings. Not much, but far more than he had ever dared to hold at once. Hopefully it would be enough to buy someone's time.
As he approached the bar, the barkeep arched an eyebrow but said nothing. He didn't have to. Taima knew he looked as out of place as he felt, clean cut, smelling faintly of livestock, and skittish among a crowd that looked like they ate puppies for breakfast. He cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders back. Alright. Well. Here went nothing. He had to do this, so may as well just jump in with both feet.
He leaned both arms on the counter. "Hey. What all can you tell me about the folk here?" he said, and hated the slight accent that marked him as "backwoods". It never bothered him before; everyone in his village sounded like him. But here it just felt...glaring. He cleared his throat again, because the first time didn't feel good enough. "Meaning like...who's good at, uh...finding?" Was there a better word for it? "As in, people?"
The barkeep said nothing. Simply stared as though waiting on something.
Taima stared back. Maybe he was dumb or deaf? Or wait. What was it they always said? Money talks?
He was hesitant to part with any coin so soon, but after a pause he slipped a coin out and placed it on the counter. Then added another when the silence stretched, and one more when the barkeep nodded him on. Finally, the man scooped the coins away and shrugged. "Most here are in the opposite business," he said. "Maybe try that guy. Ain't seen him before, so who knows? He might know something about all that."
So very helpful.
"...Thanks for your time," Taima said slowly, biting down against the irritation--and the sting of loss. Just be polite. This was about the worst place to make enemies. Stiffly, he turned toward the man the barkeep had indicated and took a deep breath. This was so fucking awkward, but he had no choice. Just do it. Yank it out like a splinter and get it over with.
Desperation did make things at least a little easier.
Heading to the man's table, he paused just a moment, unsure how to proceed, before he pulled the chair out and took a seat across from him. He felt out of place, and standing made him feel even more noticeable. Hopefully this would be quick, because he felt like a fool.
"So. This is awkward," he said, not looking at him. "But, uh, I was just wondering. What do you...do?"
...Shit. Not quite how he meant to break the ice.
