Hassan didn't expect his client to be a woman with kind eyes and a certain aura about her. She was human and looked deceptively weak; he'd learned throughout his many years as a sword for hire that such innocence was especially malevolent, yet a woman he'd rather imagine as a nurturing mother stood in front of him in the darkness of an alleyway. What a humorously twisted situation, anyway.
In his hand was a love potion.
"Are you...?" Her tone was questioning, but Hassan noticed how her eyes reflected no hint of hesitance at the sight of him. She took a cautious---or rather practiced---step forward and met his cool gaze, obscured from a distance by the shadow of his hood.
He merely nodded in response. Transactions like these were typical. He wasn't fond of needless pleasantries and found the few attempts to win his favor completely futile. Most of the time, his clients had no issue with it; they were here for the goods, not for any exemplary conversation. Hassan liked to have his actions do the talking. Yet some were perhaps not quite as experienced with the Underground, in which case...
Despite her sickening degeneracy, he supposed this well-off woman had a habit of formality.
The vial in his hand gleamed dully from moonlight. For lack of a better word, this product was unusual compared to what he usually offered; mercenaries often delivered precious wares but Hassan's niche was in weaponry. A love potion was far out of left field. The merchant he'd acquired this from---a man largely acquainted with the mercenary band Hassan followed---had warned him with a derisive laugh to "use it sparingly". Perhaps it was particularly potent?
Well, it wasn't his job to care.
The payment was already made beforehand---surprisingly, considering how foolish it was to take a common mercenary for his word, but this woman likely had the means to make coin elsewhere. She wasn't like the many humans who lived in urban slums and scattered villages throughout the Territories. Perhaps this whole charade was simply born of a lack of connections, but there was also something about her hardened gaze...
"Ah, that's right. Thank you." She accepted the vial and held it close to her chest, her thumb resting on its top. "Do you mind if I examine it more closely?"
It was impossible to see in this darkness...Though he couldn't fault her for at least having the sense to be paranoid about what he just handed to her. With no proof of efficacy, how could you even tell this was a love potion? Perhaps she was more experienced with this than he thought---or perhaps she was one of the few human mages who could sense the vial's energy. He didn't grace her with a response, which she eventually took as acceptance when the cap was pulled off.
"I guess you're curious about who I bought this for?"
Not particularly. Hassan had no interest in her motivations or desires. He was simply the middleman and nothing more.
"I promise you, you'll find it interesting." The corner of her lips curled up into a small smile as she spoke. Hassan noticed how particularly vicious her kind eyes became. "I've had my eye on someone, though they have never returned my attention. Really, how rude is it to simply walk away after making such an impression? I couldn't let them do that."
Ah, how uninspired. Hassan glanced to the side in abject boredom.
"They took away something very precious to me and left me to pick up the scraps of my own heart. I try to speak to them, but they hardly ever respond. I have to say, no man's so dense as to think his actions don't have any impact on people!"
She was quiet for a moment.
Hassan, in his hubris, had mistaken the woman's intentions---perhaps out of disdain for her as a degenerate, perhaps out of his twisted cynicism. She was weak. That was his assumption, even though he was very well aware of her practiced movements and steely expression. And why wouldn't he think so? Mage or not, Hassan had killed dozens of humans like her. One strike at their vitals and even an inferno of emotion could just quietly slip away. She was no match for a trained mercenary.
