Morning, 23rd Yaris. 2719
Aodh had managed to get a couple of hours sleep in the end. He rose early, washed shaved and brushed his wild hair. From the chest in his took the faded tan leather waistcoat, grey collarless shirt and his brown corduroy work trousers. With his old workman's boots and battered cap he look like a labourer on his day off. As good as invisible in much of the city, to the jent at least.
Before he left he went to the hidden penal in the workshop wall and took out the pouch that held the money he had made from performing. It was a fair amount, he poured around half of it into a small pouch and stuck it in the inside pocket of his waistcoat.
As he left he paused to pick up his brass knuckles, folding knife and a lock pick. The folding knife went into the top of a boot, the brass knuckles into his waistcoat and the lock pick he hide under his broad belt. On his way up Hollow street he lit up a smoke and pulled the brim of his cap down against the glare of the morning sun.
By the time he reached the Kings Way market his boots were dusty and his throat was dry. Aodh stopped at a stall for a mug of black tea and a pastry, he could practically hear his old daoa.
'Spur ent no substitute fer yats young Aodh. Nah wonder you're al'gristle an' bone.'
He smoked another cigarette after he finished the black tea he walked over to the forge.
Aodh walked as if he didn't have a care in the world, just another tsat on streets crawling with them. He noticed where the patrols were though, as he always did, the green coated devils stood out a mile off. Their hubris and complacency would their downfall, Firebrand grinned then. He took one last drag on the cigarette and put it out and dropped it in a dustbin before heading into the smithy.
Aodh smiled broadly, pulled the cap from his head stuck it in his back pocket and gave a slight bow.
"Junta! Miss Cat. Far'ye this mornin'?"
As he spoke his hands formed the sign for good morning, a little haltingly but recognizable.
