Krem orders a shitload of bread and stew which the waitress seems amenable to largely because he has been in here the last few nights and has actually paid off his tabs before leaving every time without the need for any haranguing first. That's more than you can say for a lot of folk around here, apparently. He could afford better bars of course, but this is certainly the most exciting one in the city. And the rest of the Chargers like it too, so that's that.

"Krem," he introduces himself offhandedly once the waitress is headed away to retrieve their food, and he'd offer a hand but the kid seems terribly busy coordinating his drinks into his mouth. He leans back, considering the question (and Matthias' answer, which reminds him of himself all those years ago. He can't quite recall, but he's pretty sure his pitch to Bull to go to work for the fledgling Inquisition involved the phrase good fights for a good cause in it somewhere. Honestly.) "The contracts we've got with the Inquisition aren't the normal sort. More often than not it's me looking through the reports, and figuring out what the Chargers can do for them. Usually, yeah, it's that: you do the jobs you want to, for the people you want to. If you can afford to turn away work."

And that's usually the rub. Luckily, though, Bull had built them up so well that they could be as picky as they damn well pleased. He smiles to himself, as proud as he always is of his makeshift little family (of hardened mercenaries.)

"Why, you looking for other options already?"