Kael frowned.
That was too sharp. Too fast. Too accurate.
"How'd you know?" Kael asked.
The bartender didn't even glance at his gauntlets. He didn't need to. He nodded toward Kael's feet like he was pointing out a stain on a shirt.
"Your boots, they're the only thing you never changed from your gear, they're still the same boots that newbies wear. I'd recommend you change them soon." He said.
Kael's expression soured.
Of all the things. All the armor. All the runes. All the custom gear.
The damn boots.
He'd been so busy not dying that he forgot the simplest tell in the world: one piece that didn't match the rest.
He could already picture it, someone in a crowd seeing "good gear," then noticing the newbie boots and realizing exactly what that meant.
A fresh kill. A fresh story. A fresh target.
He shifted slightly on the stool, more tense now, and the bartender raised a hand before Kael's suspicion could boil into action.
