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Mmm, and who are you supposed to be?

Mile-High Espionage - Corvo and Abigail

"Yea, they call him, oh what was it...The Raven, yes the Raven."

-A voice could be heard at the local bar within Colombia's central area of the district. It's where most of the workers, men or women, went to catch up on the latest gossip...and the latest alcoholic installment to the already-stocked shelves behind the bar. The man sitting next to him drank away at his beer, taking a look over at the other who was spouting crazy talk of some sort of assassin-

"Yea, I heard of him, but there's no way in hell he could get all the way up here from that shit-hole city he lives in."

-How sadly mistaken of them. Corvo slowly pushed the door to the bar open, scanning the insides for any sort of resistance to his presence. He stood firm, clad in his usual garb, minus the mask to avoid standing out in the crowd. It was ironic, ya know. Corvo's scruffy appearance just made him look like another one of the drunks just enjoying their drinks, but in reality, he was probably the most aware one in that entire building. He made his way over to the bar, two seats away from the two bickering workers. The bartender came over to Corvo, washing a single shot glass as he smiled at him-

"What can I get for ya?"

-Corvo brought his eyes up to meet a particular drink that he had heard about from his friend who helped get him to the cloud city in the first place. He nodded his head, without saying a word, so as to gesture for the bartender's attention.. The bartender looked behind him and noticed his selection-

"Ah yes, excellent choice sir."

-He poured him a glass and placed it in front of him. Corvo slowly grasped the glass and began to take a sip of the drink. After being in Dunwall for so long, it was nice to see such a peaceful city. Shame he would have to lower it's occupancy by one poor soul. But hey, business is business-

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The Guild Master stops, eyes narrowing from the shadow his hood casts over his eyes as he looks over to the door of The Ragged Flagon. He pulls himself up from a stool and makes a beeline for the door, one hand reaching up to leisurely pull his hood forward. Not many visitors come to The Flagon, and from the Ratway no less. They usually don't knock, either, so Gallus can only assume that there are tourists afoot. Nevertheless, he wears a welcoming smile on his face when he opens the door.

It's immediately obvious that they're not from around here. The garb they don is strange, not to mention that the Nightingale hasn't seen a wink of them in Riften from before. His smile fades down into a quizzical sort of expression, and he lets go of the doorknob hands placing themselves on his hips as he shifts back on one foot.