“You know hiding in plain sight is actually a dumb idea, right?” Kayda asked.
She tapped a copper coin against the the table cloth and absently narrowed her eyes at it. The server had dropped their change back onto the table in a careful stack, but she had taken it apart, scattered it between her napkin and the silver service in the center of the table. She slid her fingers along the edges, an old habit to check for clippings, then didn’t let them go.
Brais sat across the table from her and sipped his tea.
He had oiled his hair that morning. It curled up from his forehead in a perfect wave, them lay in a short, straight braid down the back of his neck. His collar was buttoned easily around his neck, and his jacket had been be brushed, the stitching standing out as a running line of gleaming thread.
There were no signs of how poorly he had slept the night before. His eyes were bright and his cheeks were clean. It was not, Kayda decided in an instant, how a man who had robbed a bank, stabbed a guard, and lost a fortune to an unfortunately slanted roof was supposed to look.
The city watch had been combing the streets for him since midnight. They looked harried as they waded through the crowd that filled the street on either side of them, bent around the corner noshery. Brais looked terrifically relaxed, his mouth a perfect line, half pleased with the sunshine and half bored with the daylight.
He took another sip, quiet inside the clip and babble of the city. “Dumb ideas work for me,” he murmured.
Looking away, Kayda tried to decide whether she was jealous or disgusted.