Sorin sat up on a rooftop of an inn and watched the festivities bellow one evening. The parties in East Reach were his favourite, though he enjoyed them nearly everywhere this time of year...from a distance. Instead of joining he sat up with the rats and a wineskin, which was empty unfortunately enough. One of the rats had climbed up on his lap and he gently lifted the creature, placing them back on the roof. “c’mon,” he muttered, “I can’t be asked to spend a night to myself sober now, can I?”
He got to his feet with a little bit of a sway and stepped off the edge of the roof, dropping down to another that jutted out a few feet bellow. He turned around and stepped off backward, grabbing hold of the second roof before letting go again and landing in the alley. He stumbled backward, right into someone, “sorry ‘bout that pal,” he muttered dispassionately. He was armed with a dagger at his hip but that was about it and he wasn’t confident he could escape an altercation without at least loosing some blood in his current state.