The quiet of this place is almost disconcerting.
It isn't silence by any stretch of the imagination. The sound of oars slicing adamantly through the murky water, fighting against becoming stuck in the layers of mud beneath, creates rather a racket. It's the rest of it that's eerie; the occasional croak of a frog, the chirping of crickets, perhaps the cry of a bird in the treetops overhead. Nothing recognisable. There are no voices, and Lamia can't do anything without voices.
Why did he have to choose this miserable dump as the meeting place? Honestly, she'd had to don her finest boots just to protect herself against the filth, and it really wasn't worth that kind of effort. Or, she supposed it wouldn't be. The payouts from this guy's assignments is never satisfactory. Oh, well. She's here now, alone, annoyed, and eager to hurry up and get it over with.