Sirus

Sirus nods as he too sees the Stare of the Law settle on them. But he knew that look. The half orcess was strict and suspicious, not mean. There was a world of difference. Sirus knew. He had been that difference.

Finishing his tea and his food, he leaves the necessary amount on the table, plus a tip. Cordiality.

"Yes. Let us observe."

A consecration. Could that be it?

Sirus will move by the cleric, not bothering to criss-cross around the crowd. He will move, in his unbending way, palms held before him, straight to a place of good visibility, staring at those who stand in his path until they move. Somehow, even when he is at their back, the townsfolk notice him and give him room.