Eve Tacet-Yin-Dove peered over her glass of water at the group speaking. They were a fair distance away, but from her perch in the corner, she still had a decent view and reasonably good hearing of their conversation.
Candidly discussing assassination. Theorizing how to create a guild to overthrow and rival every guilds. Confidently boasting of their abilities.
They certainly had little knowledge of the importance of tact, of doing things in the underground. Like TUBA in its golden days. She suppressed a smirk, recalling the time she'd tried to pick up an order of cookies at their bakery and wound up waiting hours to get through all the paperwork. They'd fallen. Everyone did. It was the work of Investiture. It led to one feeling overly confident, led to carelessness. It corrupted.
She regarded them warily, curious as to where this would lead. She did not expect nor want them to notice her, the small young woman seated in the most shadowed (though, admittedly, not nearly as dark as she'd like) spot in the room, booted feet barely reaching long enough to brush the floor.
Eve enjoyed watching those seeking to institute reform. It meant she'd be better prepared to deal with the fallout, the victims, of their actions.
Someone had to.