Your name.

( The ghost at the market stall is taller than Wen Kexing, who had ducked beneath the canopy for only a moment, the feeling of eyes on his back. It bleeds a little at the edges like smoke, formless and black. Wen Kexing's nose wrinkles but he does not reply straight away. Instead he pauses a little, pursuing the wares, face morphing quickly from deadly worry to easy charm. ) I haven't even said I'd buy anything yet! Can't a man simply look? No. What if these - ( A pause, eyes lingering on a bracelet depicting a woman being swallowed by a snake. Another twitch of his expression and then just once, the glance behind. ) - what if they don't suit me, mm?

( He's being furtive, even for Wen Kexing, and the first person to step up to the stall beside him gets the full force of his dramatics, flinging an arm around his companion like they're old friends. ) Ah, there you are. You won't like these either. You're more a silver, aren't you? I think I've seen something better a few stalls down.

( He tugs the newcomer along with him, out into the open of the market. ) That one doesn't seem to be trading in coin, better avoid it.

( The gambling den is loud, boisterous, full. Wen Kexing is glad for it, stalking his way slowly around the edges. It had not been hard to find out the passcode, or - it had been for the person he'd beaten it out of - and his entrance had been quick and slippery. Now he nurses a drink in one hand, the slow fluttering of his fan obscuring his face with the other. He's deep in thought, shoulders taut underneath his colourful robes. There are options, of course, he sold opiates long enough in Ephes that he could try and make an in-road there ( he has some still, squirreled away in his supplies, kept back at his room ). He could always try his hand at gambling too, something showy enough to garner attention. And there might also be a scene to cause. He thinks he could take on a whole gang, but these days he's aiming for subtly.

Plus, he doesn't exactly see the beacon. Better to be sensible.

And so he finds his way back to the bar, emptying his cup as he comes and sliding up onto a nearby stool. A quick glance to his right and his left and another drink secured and Wen Kexing sighs gustily. )

The décor could do with being better. What do you think?

Oh, this is disgusting.

( The dust stirs with the hem of his robes, and Wen Kexing makes another irritated noise, hand smacking to remove a caught cobweb from his skirts. ) I know there might be something useful here, but do they have to make it so cramped? I can't even hear myself think.

( He almost knocks a stack of heaped books flying when he sidesteps them, skirting the edges of the room with one eye fixed upon the entrance. Whatever fussy attitude he's putting on, it does very little to hide the level of alertness that's currently zipping through his body. He's aware - of something - anyway. ) I thought the jungle was upsetting but I think I'd take being hot and sticky over this place. If there are organs in any of those jars I'm leaving!

( I'm at discord: sadgaydna or qingya if you want to plot. )