He squeezes her hand right back.

"...I could've just not told anybody I'd killed someone, but then I'd be lying. And I hate lying."

She nods. "That makes sense. S'better not to." Om nom breakfast.

Yeah.

He finishes the last of his potatoes, pensively.

She finishes her breakfast as well. "I should get going, go make us some money."

She leans across the table and presses a kiss to his lips. "Have a good day, handsome. See you after work."

"Good luck with your stuff! If I don't see you at lunch I'll wait for you by the centaur's dumpling stall for dinner?"

"Sounds good, unless you'd rather see what dinner at the inn is like."

"I'd rather wait to see if we make more or less than thirty gems today before we decide for sure if we're gonna keep staying here."

"Not just handsome but sensible too," she remarks with a smile. "Good plan. See you after."

"See you!"

And she steps out onto the street, heads back to Market Square, and then turns onto Main Street toward City Hall.

Market Square is less busy than it was last night at dinner, but still pretty busy. Food and trinket vendors wave their wares in her face, sometimes literally. The crowd thins significantly after she escapes onto Main Street, and it's pretty quiet from there to City Hall.

She strolls down the street, smiling as people go by, enjoying a brief bit of people-watching. Soon enough, she's walking up to the door and going inside.

A tall, buff fellow in denim overalls, with dark ram's horns curling amid his dark curly hair and glossy black hooves peeking out from the cuffs of his overalls like sturdy work boots, is chatting quietly with the receptionist. In build and profile and facial structure, he really looks like he ought to be a minotaur, but those aren't a minotaur's horns and those hooves have the broad smooth curve of a workhorse, not the cloven points of a bovine.

As the door opens, his head swings around, sleek russet fur rippling on his thickly muscled arms as he half-turns to look. "You Sable?" he asks, in a deep bone-rumbling voice.

"That's me," she replies with a smile.

He nods. "I'm Ross. Head of maintenance. Follow me."

And he ambles out the door, ducking slightly to make it under the lintel. (The door is plenty tall. Ross is taller.)

She follows Ross out, watching where they're going with a smile.

He heads straight along Main Street East, ignoring the increasing amounts of trash in the street as he leads her toward the east wall of the city.

"Maintenance on the watchtowers," he explains as they walk. "East side's always the worst off. 'Dyou get breakfast?"

"Did, yes. Tower wear from demons, I assume?"

"That and vandals," he shrugs.

"Yes, let's vandalize and wear out the watchtowers that help the city guard keep us safe from demons. Great idea," Hailey drawls, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Ross lets out an amused huff. "You said it."

She shakes her head. "Oh well. On the positive side, the morons are making work for me."

As they approach the east wall, she looks the nearest tower over. What sort of construction does it seem to be? More stonework like the walls?

It's a tall, round tower embedded in the massive stone wall, and somebody appears to have stolen the wooden door at the base right off of its hinges. A uniformed and helmeted guard leaning against the wall nearby waves to Ross and gets a short nod in return.

"Wait here while I get the cart," says Ross. "Won't be long. You have your own tools, or do you need to borrow 'em?"

"Borrow, if y'don't mind. Planning to buy some once I've got a few shifts' pay down."

Is she going to be making a new door? Is there another wooden door she can match the style of somewhere vaguely nearby if so?

Ross grunts acknowledgment, nods, and walks away at easily double or more the pace he set when they were walking here. Those long strides really eat up ground when he lets them.

If she wants a model to work from, there's always the next nearest watchtower; it's not far, just past the broad bricked-up arch that looks like it might once have held a gate. Some of the bricks are crumbling.