Snarg followed Garrett quietly, surprisingly quiet for a man of his size, but he had decades of practice and his gear well oiled. Besides a few buckles and his weapons, nothing on him was metal or risked clinking while he moved. It also allowed him dexterity that heavier pieces would not allow. He knew his job. He was good at his job. He'd have to be in order to stay alive all of these years.
Why had he given his best daggers to Ev? Why had he broken his own promise to himself to just do as he was told and nothing more? It had served him well for years and the stockpiles of treasures in his little caches throughout the desert spoke volumes of his skills. So why now? What was different about this damned girl? She was nothing. She was insignificant. She was young enough to be his daughter by the looks of it had things gone differently in his life. She was just like....
No.
No.
He wouldn't think about it.
He had done something stupid and now needed to get his mind back in the game and actually start earning that four times pay. Fuck. He just needed to stay alive. That was the main concern. The starry-eyed wench had nothing to do with him. He didn't owe her a damn thing.
Fuck Ev.
Fuck her.
Fuck, what was he supposed to be doing?
Oh, right, watching. Waiting. While the weasel man picked a lock.
Everything was still quiet.
For now.
