She didn't like the pot-shops. They'd been a blessing when she first discovered them, but they were always packed - and in Flea Bottom, she didn't much care for crowds. A person could blend in inside a crowd, could disappear - but she'd learned early on, and quickly, that crowds had their dangers. People grabbed at her, people shoved at her, people trampled those that had the misfortune of stumbling on the their way to the Street of Flour, or the Sept, or the Mud Gate or the Red Keep
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