The Iron Father
Ijaat had been at the Oyubaat for a few hours. Most didn't know his face, because he had set it up that way. Plus, with non descript armor that barely fit, he looked like any of hundreds of the diaspora coming home to pay homage to Manda'yaim. But he had a mission this time. He was waiting on
Arla Rodarch
. He had a bottle of cheap tihaar, and two steaming bowls of tingilaar sat before him. The bouncer knew him, and had instructions to send her to him when she arrived, and she had been messaged by a 'friend' to come here around this time for a drink and to catch up. And so. the Manda'lor waited on his bodyguard, the intent to get to know the one responsible for keeping his shebs alive. Not as a warrior, but to know her better as a person.