"Let me see if I've got this right." Colrina placed a hand on her hip. "You want me to steal from somebody who can barely make ends meet, and put someone else out of business?" She shook her head. "I don't think so."The man—Brynjolf—shrugged and leaned against the tavern wall. His eyes, a calculating green, met her glare fearlessly. "Suit yourself, Lass," he said. "But if I were you, I'd reconsider. Work that pays this well is hard to come by in Riften. And judging by how empty your pockets are, I'd say you need the coin." Colrina took half a step back. "How could you possibly know that?" She demanded, knowing there was no sense in lying; he would obviously see through it. A smirk crossed Brynjolf's lips, and he shrugged again. "I have a knack for this sort of thing." His eyes flashed in the dim candlelight. "And I think you do, too. You just don't listen to it."I'm not a thief." Colrina started to turn away. She thought of the Companions, of the gold she'd lifted from Jorrvaskr before she'd fled. She sighed. "And I just want to be left alone."
Understanding briefly flew across Brynjolf's face before he apparently regained control. Pushing away from the wall, he began walking toward the exit. "Well, if you change your mind," he called over his shoulder, "I'll be in the market tomorrow morning."And with that, he went outside, leaving Colrina to ponder his offer.