One of the questions he'd kept being asked tonight, and had grown to hate answering. Reactions ranging from polite surprise to undisguised contempt had greeted his answer, after all. Still, Jag stopped looking around the room to turn to her, hands in his pockets, and remaining standing for now. He instinctively wanted to wait for Val to be back before sitting down, for no real reason. "I'm a busker. Fire juggling."

If he had been out to provoke, he would have added that he picked rich people's pockets on a regular basis. But he was on his best behaviour, and he hadn't nicked anything tonight, and didn't intend to.