[ The nasty, horrible, awful elf makes his expeditious retreat, chuckling to himself at the insults being hurled his way. He's still smiling as he takes his pack from Astarion, residual alcohol making him more pleased by his mischief than he should be. ]

Adding to my ever-growing debt.

[ Impossible to pay off, at this point. Winding through another throng of circus-goers, he steps under the shade of the one large tree situated nearly in the middle of the grounds, a strange-shaped thing that resembles an overgrown stump with two armlike branches on either side of it. Gnarled, old-looking. ]

Take heart. Lae'zel will be pleased with you. [ A hum. ] Her favor will earn you your peace.