You sit at the crowded bar among a host of pirates and thieves - some old friends, others rivals and strangers. The musky scents of spirits, sweat, and dirt cloud the air of the tavern. It's a boisterous night, rowdy as ever, but the fellows around you sit silent and attentive as you dramatically recount a humorous tale to them over the babble.
"So he runs to his desk, gets out his paper and ink, and calculates exactly how much water he needs to put out the fire, and proclaims 'there IS a solution!' then the poor bastard burns to death," you finish, to an uproar of laughter.
Yet another win. Self-satisfied, you take a cheeky sip of your whiskey, only to cough it right back out as your old buddy Ivan claps you hard on the back in approval. He laughs even harder from your reaction as you wipe your mouth. Smirking and shaking your head, you give him a shove in kind. The general chatter and camaraderie resumes and you turn back to your drink, and Ivan goes upstairs to check on Captain Vetica. It turned out that your informant had double sold information about a secret cargo ship's route, so Vetica's upstairs with the other buyer, negotiating who gets the score. You weaseled you way out of playing guard duty at the meeting so you could kick back and have some fun tonight, though you are technically on standby in case something goes awry.
All of a sudden, you feel the slightest ruffling in your coat. It's not like the usual butting and bumping of the crowded space, no, it's very soft and concise. There's really someone stupid enough to try to pickpocket you... as if THE Anders Magnus wouldn't have a decoy wallet.