…The Flagon was empty, most everyone had already retired for the night. Brynjolf sat at a table looking toward the bar but seeing nothing in particular. He was getting used to not seeing Meliandra, having only brief letters addressed to the Guild in its entirety as proof that she still lived, but the emptiness he felt grew heavier each passing day.
The sound of approaching footsteps drew his head to the sound while his hand went to the dagger on his hip. His eyes fell upon the stocky Nord with resentment then glanced beyond him. “Where is Meliandra?”
The man shrugged as he responded, “Who knows. Probably in some Imperial camp slaughtering Legion officers.”
The man motioned to the chair next to him and said, “I’m gonna be here awhile; maybe I should sit down.”