You feel a pat on your back on that dance floor on Haven, just on top of the spot where your heart would be. The voice that accompanies that gesture is friendly and welcoming, though, as if the back pat was nothing other than a simple greeting, even though both of you would probably know that it is not.

"There are seven wallets on this dance floor ripe for the picking, along with around ten more on several of the tables. But you already knew that, didn't you, mister vampire sir?"

Do forgive him. He likes the occasional practical joke, even if he is supposedly a straitlaced Obrimos mage. No one survives a war without a healthy dose of skepticism, too.