Gods did he hate bards.
It seemed everywhere he went, he was doomed to run into one of those fuckers. Always begging, always dancing, always singing, or strumming on their fucking instruments, smiling their fucking surly smiles as coins were tossed their way. And just when he thought he got far enough away from them on the mainland, he knew it was only a matter of time before he got another one here in fucking Thanatos.
He was a fool to think the dead couldn't sing.
Vance just stared at the bard sitting along, perhaps he was a little drunk. Maybe he was a little ornery. But he didn't care. He just wished he could set her on fire just by looking at her.