“(y/n)!” Mercer snapped walking into the flagon. You looked up from your wine with a small frown, your lips pursed in slight frustration. “Come with me, now.” Before you even responded he was striding back towards the cistern. “You better go and see what it is he wants, lass.” Brynjolf advised. “Perhaps.” You agreed, taking one more sip of wine before following Mercer. He was silent as he lead you towards his desk, making your heart pound slightly as to what he could possibly need from you so badly at this time. Your eyes scanned the cistern, it was empty, everyone seemed to be enjoying a drink in the flagon asides you, upon a second glance you did notice Cynric and Rune were still here, lurking on a small table, Rune appreciating a good mead while Cynric sat oiling his dagger.
When Mercer finally stopped behind his desk you raised your eyebrows in question, but to your immediate annoyance he only stood there, making you wait.