At his question, Frey bristled a bit. “Not under these exact circumstances, but—” before she could finish, she was interrupted by his (admittedly fair) evaluation, and found she couldn’t argue his points. Didn’t mean she had to be happy about it, though.
For a rogue and a spy, Freja was woefully unused to the Game. Growing up under the Carta’s thumb in Dust Town required a rather different set of skills; one that required less deception and cunning, and more ‘who could draw their dagger faster in the heat of the moment’.
Still, when he continued, she shrugged. “Sometimes sticking out is the best way to be ignored,” she answered. A young beggar girl in rags, with a casteless tattoo on her cheek, stumbling along the merchant streets: everyone noticed her and yet no one did, always choosing to turn their gaze away. She drew attention, but they chose not to see.
“But, different places, difference rules, I guess. Whatever the case, I figure they made this decision for a reason.” She continued down the roads of Val Royeaux, this time pointedly ignoring another stare their way. “Might as well find out what it is.”
He could have understood sending one of them separately, or both of them on either side of the city. With their shared contacts--his in what was left of the Mage Rebellion and hers in the Carta--they were a formidable duo to be assured. But together... Emil simply couldn’t see the silver lining of the whole thing.
But one simply didn’t question Lady Nightingale’s orders, especially when they were given in person.
Before Emil could speak again, there was a shriek, followed by another--a noise that stirred old wounds in Emil's gut and made him flinch without warning. But rather than terror beginning to blossom around them, the high-pitched noises turned into peals of laughter followed by clapping that eventually grew into outright applause.
With a frown of confusion at his companion, Emil looked towards the noise and noticed a gathering beginning to form in a plaza.
“Looks like a circus.” he muttered with the greatest disdain he could muster.