"No w'rd yet Artty." The Boxman sighed as a now familiar man slipped onto the bar stool beside him.
Truthfully, Basso never thought he would see the Keeper again after their very first encounter, when Artemus first broke into his home to politely interrogate him about his involvement with his children.
Yet, soon after the city was set ablaze did the Keeper appear again.
The tavern was bustling with the same crowd it usually was, familiar faces, in other words, those who had managed to survive the initial onslaught of the Graven.
The Keeper had done well for himself, in the sense that he most certainly looked like he belonged among the more desperate peasants. The most people batted an eye over was his too well refined speech.
"He's not dead." Artemus whispered steadily as he took the mug of ale the barkeep had set down before him, swirling the deep amber liquid before throwing the alcohol back. It burned bitterly on the way down, but warmed his bones once it reached his stomach.
"Please." Basso scoffed as he tapped the counter before him with another coin.
"Those two don' know 'ow ta keep down." The Boxman chuckled as a tall pint of something a whole lot stronger than ale was set before him and his coin vanished into the pocket of the barkeep serving the counter that eve.
Basso took a long, deep swig before setting the pint down with a sigh.
"'Ave ya tried askin' any urchins?" The Boxman asked, turning on his chair, which whimpered beneath him loudly, to face the Keeper, his elbow resting on the counter top, casually gripping his drink.
"Dey see more den most, but dey're not the sort ta blab ta most people." Basso explained simply.
"How would a urchin know the whereabouts of my children?" Artemus shot back, his voice sharper than he intended.
Basso raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Easy dere Artty." He huffed as he took another swig from his drink, continuing to talk once he set the pint down.
"Street urchins are dead useful in our line of work." Basso said, quieter, leaning closer to the Keeper to keep his voice lower.
"Dey see a lot moor den you'd think, robberies, murders, rape, any crime dat ya can think of, anywhere, any time, odds are, a street rat was dere ta witness it." Basso explained.
"An' I know fer a fact dat a whole lot of dem gutter dwellers were awfully fond of y'er thieves." Basso murmured.
"Now, I don' tend ta go out o' ma way ta snoop 'round fer street words, I get 'nough o' dat 'round 'ere as is… But both Garrett and Erin 'ad a knack fer sleuthing through street rats fer… Let's say, juicer d'tails." The Boxman rumbled through a chuckle.
"An' thieves dey may be, but Garrett an' Erin are no skimps when it came ta tips… So when I say dat a few gutter dwellers are mighty fond o' dem, I mean Garrett and Erin were more den likely they reason dey ate most of the year."
Artemus nodded slowly, jolting as Basso clapped him on the shoulder.
"If ya go rat hunting, be sure ta bring enough coin ta loosen a tongue or two, dey may be friends o' thieves, but dat doesn't mean dey see you as one too… Oh, and lose de dagger, urchins don' take too kindly ta threats.