>>5347571“Take Boleski.” You speak up, since no one else has, and, at the mention of his name, his wings scrunch up around him.
“Alright, come on over,” the Healer beckons him over to her office, the older man awkwardly weaving around bits of furniture and whatnot so as not to get acid anywhere, but it’s oozing out of every feather and pore, enough that you watch some of it burn straight through the tile when he knocks right into an unsuspecting shelf.
The door slams shut, but, with the Healer present, that tense, hostile atmosphere that had permeated the room is long-gone. Shaw still stares at the counter, not having moved since the Healer ripped him a new one, and it doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere anytime soon.
“He okay?” You question aloud, eyeing the clerk– a clerk who seems to have entered some state of fugue.
“Salty is more like it.” Valjean snarks, shooting Shaw a sidelong glance. “Not sure he’s ever gonna recover from that, but who knows? Maybe he’ll have learned his lesson and be a better person for it.” He shrugs, the whole spiel being a complete act of sarcasm.
“So what kind of incentive do we have for the Healer?” Valjean asks more seriously.
“Money.” You say simply.
“Money,” Valjean repeats, shooting you a look that asks ‘are you serious?’
“Worked last time,” You shrug, not willing to question something that undoubtedly works.
>(1/3) 