Rimath

Pick Your Poison

"Pick your poison, sir: we can do this the Easy way," Rimath smiled winningly, leaning onto the table, "or we can use some hard Maths. You choose. But choose soon." His finger tapped on the rough tabletop, nail clicking quietly. It was almost lost in the din of the busy bar they sat in.

"We've already done our part. Now it's your turn to make good on this little pact we set up. We got the goods--none too easy a feat, which is why you hired us. I got gilbins ready to bite my pretty little fingertips to get these damn pearls back. Vash'jir has a lot of pointy teeth and a lot of problematic people in it. ... I'd prefer not to think Boralus has been taking lessons from naga. You're not a problematic man, are you?" Again the winning smile flashed and he leaned back.

"So the easy way is you pass over that bag of gold you'd promised us and I pass you these pretty little pearls. The hart way is MY way: I punch you in the nose, and maybe the pecker, and then I take the bag of gold, never giving you this parcel. You pick."