It seemed that Garrett had been busy.
Everywhere Bon went he heard the whispers. Members of the Generous Hand were under siege.
(Well, maybe they didn’t realise it just yet but they were being assailed by a Halfling with a singular nature – & perhaps an overabundance of energy)
All night he’d listened to the stories; the Hand were being cajoled, pestered, talked-at, flattered, bribed, coaxed & (occasionally) even drunk into insensibility… others were being “hired” for jobs & then unceremoniously beaten into submission. The one constant was that each remembered a crazy little Halfling screaming; “Where’s MARKUS!?” at them.
He knew Garrett, & how he thought; he would hold any & all members of the Hand personally accountable for taking Markus. Believing that even the lowest of functionaries would automatically know exactly where he was being held.
His newer companions would perhaps find it strange to see Garrett like this – his focus being held by anything longer than a minute was unheard of! Never mind that he was just so quiet!
Bon knew better & had seen it before – the signs were clear if you knew how to look. He had watched quietly earlier in the night as resolve hardened in the Halfling’s eyes (after all – in the wild there was no compassion for prey) His little friend was embracing a side of himself rarely seen – he was Hunting. Steeling himself because he thought he would need to hurt people to save his friend.
Then he was gone. Garrett would fire himself headlong at his perceived foe – like one of his arrows – until he provoked a response.
Or, they tired of his pestering & put him down. Either way.
He shifted his cloak tighter around him, changing his face once more.
Perhaps a lighter touch would yield better results in the search for Markus.
With that thought he vanished once more into the crowded tavern, already finessing plans as he went.