turning into something caustic

"Well, because," Ronin said, with all the wisdom of a man lying through his teeth, "Jata has germs, Seren. You'll just end up smelling like whiskey, and that will reflect badly on the both of us." Smirking at the other man, they meandered onto the streets in the rain. The suggestion of breakfast didn't seem to phase his daughter, but since Jata had agreed Ronin nodded and led the way towards said stall. It didn't escape him, his daughter's bare feet, and he resolved to make sure she got some sandals before the end of the day as well. Luckily for them, the stall was under cover, so they would be dry while they ate at the very least. And another upside - Ronin regularly killed the troublesome catches that made their way into the soup (bag of crabs, Jata?), so he didn't have to barter for a couple of bowls of the stuff. One he offered to the guildmaster, whether or not he planned to eat, and the other he passed to Seren. "Be careful, okay? It might burn your tongue." RONIN Darkness is a funny thing. It creeps up on you.