[The weather is hot. Too hot for a man like Victarion to be truly comfortable, even if he has been sailing the southern sees of Essos of late. It's why the weather finds him wearing less armor than what he would truly like. In a den of scum like this, a man was oft in need of protection from a shaded blade. Even so, a big man like him was the sort that did not invite trouble.

He sat as instructed and leaned back into the seat as his eyes spent more time on the peculiar surroundings than on the man in front of him.]

I have been hunting the man who poisoned my kin. Many of his agents are dead and with Olympia abandoned, his snakes have all fled into their holes. [He leans forward.] I thought mayhaps this might be one of them.