Teliana might have choked back laughter if she was any less experienced. Depends on who you're buying the drink for? Did I not make it obvious? Still, she carried on, keeping her eyes and attention on him and tilting her body in a way that let the light hit her curves all just right. Unless this kid was a virgin, this should work. But Teliana didn't rule the possibility of failure. It kept her life interesting, if not a little more dangerous than she hoped. Keeping her charming smile plastered on her lips, she leaned forward conspiratorially towards Lumen, her eyes darting over his figure in a quick analysis before carrying on. "Well, one of my friends came into an unfortunate incident, and I need help getting them out of it. But if you are truly interested, then we should at least introduce each other." Holding out her hand, she let her cheeks flush. "Mine is Teli, and yours?" If this didn't work, then Alyse would simply have to take the boring job, no matter how she protested. And yes, she would not be happy. Speaking of Alyse, she was not so happily resting against the bar, waiting for the attention of her friend and boss. The strange man kept most of his attention on Dayla, though at one point he turned and stared at her. Alyse fought down the strong instinct to growl and stalk forward, staking her claim on this place, and the people around her. The wolf whispered that this man was a threat to her authority and territory, and she needed to take care of it. But the human instincts remained in place, thankfully much more in control then earlier, against Kord. Alyse narrowed her eyes at the man's comment about the help, but declined to offer a comment. She wasn't going to barge in a conversation that clearly didn't involve her. At around this time, Derrick or whatever his name was came up and ordered more alcohol. Witchers were different from humans in many ways, but Alyse hoped he wouldn't get blind drunk before attempting whatever Teliana had planned. She also hoped he wouldn't try to talk to her. Her nerves were already frayed, and she didn't want to risk giving anything away that might cause him to turn on her. Mister Bob Master Robertius Tiberius Kraven, or simply Bob, as he was known, walked down the hallway with purpose. He had two tasks ahead of him, and the way this night went depended not only on his choices, but on those of the man he had been sent to interrogate. While Bob didn't like to profit off his days with the witch hunters, learning their craft and recording it in journals for the purpose of history, there simply wasn't much work in the city for a scholar of his note. And while he had caused the deaths of (probably) innocent people, he liked to think that he had saved a great deal more. Hopefully the gods would see it the same way, and allow him entrance into the afterlife. Opening the door, Bob stepped in and shut the creaking thing behind him. The witcher had clearly already been worked over, to the best of the guards' barbaric extent. They didn't retain much skill or subtlety. For a commoner, it probably would have broken them. But a witcher was a different breed altogether. With a sigh, Bob set down his belt of heavy equipment. "So you're the one everyone is making a fuss about. Crossed the wrong side of the delicate balance of peace, and now they want me to get information from you." He unrolled the belt, his fingers cringing at the touch of cold steel. "If you're going to scream a name, I doubt it'll be one they want to hear. So you can use mine, it's Bob. Robertius is usually too much of a mouthful for torture victims."