Lesley fidgeted with the loose end of his belt as he walked, trying to dismiss the prickle between his shoulderblades as irrational. He had had a rougher day than he'd expected - well, longer, at any rate. Why a man whose previous career included semi-regularly being bludgeoned half to death should find going to haggle at the market for dates and spices and delivering a few custom purchases rough, he wasn't entirely sure. Some days he could accept that he had a short attention span, a short temper, and a seemingly limitless capacity to find similarities between random people and the friends he'd lost over the last decade and more. Some days it made him feel weak, broken, that he'd won, he'd gotten what every gladiator wanted, and he couldn't actually appreciate it and get on with his life. Some days, like today, he was just fed up with the world and felt that, somehow, all these stupid soft people around him deserved to go a round in the arena, or right here on the street, deserved to have their blood spilled and their bones broken so that they would just shut up and leave him the hell alone.

He knew it was irrational. Knew that the eyes he felt on the back of his neck, the whispers, were as much an illusion as the times he swore he heard his name called from the crowd in the voice of a dead man. Mostly.

He should just go home. He wasn't fit company for anyone, he was done his errands, he should go back to the shop that still didn't yet feel entirely familiar, hide in the back room or the courtyard from everyone, safe behind his mother's skirts and her worried eyes... he walked into the nearest wine shop and put a coin down on the counter.

The gladiator - former gladiator - took the wineskin he received in return, and scanned the room, looking for a quiet corner but at the same time instinctively sizing everyone up and classifying each as a potential threat or not, judging more on mood and level of inebriation than size or build. Hard to tell at a glance who might be the scrappy, squirmy sort of person he hated fighting bare-handed, and he was used to an environment where nobody was entirely harmless. He took a swig of the wine, and reflected that he really should just take his drink and head out. The air inside the tavern was filled with too many voices, and being surrounded by cheerfully drunk people was not going to improve his mood. On the other hand, he didn't really want to go back, either... He scowled and scanned the room again.

Lukos sat in the opposite corner of Lesley. He sat at a table occupied by no less than five other men, all older than himself. All of the men, including him, wore the garb of sailors. Their hair was wild and windswept, curly from salt air. Like a lot of older men, most of the five sported salt and pepper beards. Lukos alone did not have a full beard, but instead, had thick stubble that threatened to turn into an impressive beard if he was not careful. The table was littered with clay wine jugs, cups half drunk or being refilled, dice, and a pile of coins in the center.

One of the men rolled the dice and the whole table crowed loudly as he groaned in annoyance. Lukos laughed and lifted the cup to his lips, taking a deep drink. They’d been here for the better part of an hour already and intended to be here long into the night. Another man cast the dice and the rowdy table caused another rukous as the man drug coins toward him. More dice rolling, more laughter and groaning, table pounding, and general merriment.

He’d noted Lesley when the man walked in. His gaze had raked the man up and down, calculating. It was obvious from the tight, compact way that the man walked, he was irritated. Lukos wasn’t curious as to the reason so much as he suspected he’d found a mark. Encouraging his men to be as loud as possible, he too, laughed hard, groaned excessively loud at a loss, and occasionally cast looks in Lesley’s direction.

Finally, one of his sailors had to leave the table to go vomit outside. The man’s winnings were pushed straight back into the center of the table. Lukos stood, taking his own winnings with him in a pouch, and crossed the space toward Lesley. He crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side, looking Lesley over as a smile played about the corners of his mouth.

“You look as though you could use a game. Want to test your luck against us?” With his head, he indicated the table he’d just left. “A spot has opened up. It’s no fun to drink alone.”

Lesley had time to find a seat and get enough wine into him to no longer quite hate the idea of other people existing, when someone called out for him to join them. He raised his eyebrows and gestured to himself, checking that they did in fact mean him, then shrugged and slipped to his feet. It wasn't like he didn't like people really. He was actually quite social usually, as shown by the admittedly very slightly predatory grin as he prowled over and dropped lightly into the recently vacated seat.

"I've not enough coin for a game," he admitted, "But sure, I'll take the company." The men were rough, rowdy, and for the most part as drunk as so many fishes, and while that would have made them poor company for many, Les figured that made them less likely to be offended by his own less than stellar manners. He took another swig of his wine, and examined the man who'd called him over. Not drunk, or not enough to matter, it seemed. Probably the leader of this lot. And quite likely another predator, though he wasn't advertising himself as such. Definitely better company than the soft folk he'd been dealing with all day. "I'm Lesley," he informed the captain. "This home port for you?"

His general irritation with his day so far wasn't entirely gone, but he was at least distracted from brooding about it. He gave the ongoing game a curious look, wondering exactly which rules they were playing by, though content enough simply to watch. He did absently wonder if it was one he knew how to cheat at. Damned harder to cheat at dice than cards, though he had a pretty good knack for those games that involved bluffing. But no, he really shouldn't - cheating or no, there was never any guarantee, and he really didn't have the spare coin to risk on it.