[Wen walks softly, shoes hardly making a sound, the fabric of his robes a sigh of silk. If you're distracted by the noises in the Jug, you might miss it, but Jacob is listening for them, eyes closed, breathing slow. He doesn't open them when the door opens either, only when the smell of the mint hits him and he picks it up off the desk. He examines it a second, but Wen is already grabbing for his wrist.]

Didn't you tell me not to take any more drugs from pretty people?

[But he submits to the examination anyway.]

Not proper assassins. Just killers. I've seen better.