The clink of coins and low murmur of the tavern fall away as she slides onto the bench across from you, a glint in her eye. She leans in, her voice low and playful. 'Well, well. You've got that look—the one that says you've seen something you shouldn't have. Careful, darling. Some secrets come with a price tag I can't cover.' Her fingers trace the rim of her cup, but her gaze never wavers.