City of Fools [Rod & Mal] [HC Flashback]
He is always angry. It's something he can't escape these days. It plagues him, twists any chance of a smile into, at best, a grimace, keeps his hands fisted and his sword at the ready. Perhaps it makes for an intimidating persona, sure, but when you're trying to get work, it's more of a curse than anything.
Rodric is working as a hired sword. He's worked a few jobs since his arrival in Cohav just weeks before, but overall the pickings have been slim, and he attributes this not only to his age and to his relative inexperience, but to his mien, too.
He'll have to work on that.
For now, though, Eisa's spilled blood runs freshly through his veins, acidic, corrosive, and every moment that he successfully keeps his rage in feels like an eternity. So it is that he must distract himself with work, with the clash of metal and the cries of men affronted, anything to get his mind off of his real mission, the true desire that brought him to the city.
He must distract himself, and so he waits.
At the moment he's seated on a barstool in the tavern to which the advertisement he'd posted concerning his skills referred, taking sparing drinks from the pint in front of him. He hasn't got much coin to waste on alcohol but knows he can't remain without patronage, so he makes it last, hoping that someone looking for a job to be done comes in sooner rather than later.