The rain was incessant, drenching the city long into the night.
Beneath an overhang, Morre flattened his ears and cursed the rain. He'd stayed mostly dry, aside from his tail, but dry didn't do him much good when nobody was out.
There'd been a fraction of the usual foot-traffic that evening, which meant he'd earned a fraction of what he normally would.
And moments later, when a cloaked woman with piercing eyes offered him a fraction of what he was worth, Morre just nodded.
For another fraction of the night, he'd be out of the rain.