A few steps further on, Inric stops, sighs, and looks around for somewhere to wait. Just round the corner, conveniently out of sight of the Bakers' Guild and its watcher, is a bench. He sits down, making sure he can still see the main road up which Ffion will walk when she comes out. It is not long before he is interrupted, but not by Ffion. "What are you waiting for?" Nazarchtharin asks. "Trouble."