"Oh? What do you want? Look, I've not the time for company."
The seated figure takes a swig from her tankard, revealing red tattoos that wind up her wrists and disappear beneath her sleeves. The sign of a mage, refugees of a hunted people. She notices your slight recoil.
"Exactly. Not the kind of sort you want to get to know, unless you're wanted as well. In which case, better book it for the back lines. Me? I've got too much left that needs finishing."
"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a target to find, before they catch wind that I'm here."
Set the world on fire with bittersweet desire To chase away the night, let the whole world burn Set the world on fire for bliss in sweet denial, oblivion and peace Will you let me burn?