Round 3

Silra moved like shadow through rain, eyes scanning facade while man's fear radiated thick enough to cut with her dagger if she'd wanted—though that would hardly help their situation now. No, genuine fear had its uses; it pointed toward real threats, recent ones likely, and this particular specimen seemed ready to spill everything if properly... encouraged.

The woman in the window—that was the interesting part. Retreating into shadow after noticing them? Either she was more cautious than her husband or she knew something he didn't—and was smart enough to keep it that way until she understood the threat level. Her silence spoke volumes; she'd seen something worth hiding, or perhaps someone worth protecting.

Sister Hale watched the exchange with the practiced eye of one who'd seen a hundred such moments in a dozen worse places. The man's fear had a specific taste—recent trauma mixed with old terror, something that coiled cold and deep in the gut. She could feel it radiating off him like heat from an open furnace, thick enough to cut through the rain's drumming.

The woman's retreat spoke volumes; she'd seen something worth hiding, or perhaps someone worth protecting. Her silence needed breaking, and the man's desperation would make that task easier than it should have been.