Quoted By:
QM: "0 ffs"
Some of the quick thinking ones, Roogs probably, pop out and spray you with pump-insecticide and kus-kus perfume and ground pepper.
You sneeze a few times, gash their arms open and jostle past.
Between handling your Grains and Silvers and touching Gobbgantua, the featherfingered thief has touched enough smegg that you can't lose him. Her. The pube-rat's a she.
"<span class="mu-g">I CAN SMAEL YUR CUNT</span>"
It makes her flinch to hear you; she loses one second just processing your foulness, and you use that window to send the shoddy axe her way, blunt first. It catches her on the shoulder, putting her off stride. She rights herself, tries to push on, but she's out of puff and you are far, far too fit.
The moment you close within arm's length she suddenly spins on you, flinging glass dust, glisteny knife ready. You're ready too: a handful of Dedder Dust, and good ol Sicky, pommel first.
You break teeth right on the first blow; she cuts you once, and you whallop her.
By the time her troops arrive you she's painting the ground: you've rammed her face several times into it.
You're both panting, her neck resting on the Sicky's curve, you looking up at a crowd of helpless, angry Rheas.
You draw out yet anuvva shiv, lay it across the back of her knee.
"<span class="mu-g">Get me the Bosser of your pikkypokts. Or Liddle Mizz Muffet never plays hopscotch again. You have ninety beats.</span>"
"S-sir, we don't know what this is about-"
"<span class="mu-g">Eighty beats, and I'm gettn nervus.</span>"
They bring him. It's the fatty oldy quwayal roaster. Dragg Lord or sumn.
You just stare at each other for a bit, sizing up. You both know YOU have a better hand.
"<span class="mu-g">So you're the Bosser. I'm not happy Bosser. Make me happy.</span>"
He clears his throat.
"It is only money, Traveller. There is no need for such a... vigorous response." Only money, says the guy wot had a crowd and several streets planned out to cut you off.
You move your hand holding the shiv, from the back of her knee, to between her right thumb and poity.
"It'll only be juzt a fingy then. She's got nine more to cheat at Pooker with. Forty Grain and eight Silver is a good price for a fingy, inna." Your total lack of inflection, Seafood's pattern of speech Intimidation (2) , is working: his resolve is cracking. He's trying to hide it, like you've always tried to hide your fear of death around Seafood. He can't Bluff you.
"What do you want?"
"<span class="mu-g">yez made me run n all. I'm hungry again. Two quwayals. Two Biggy Tablers. Wanna eat.</span>"
Dragg Lord makes eye contact with two people; they duck off into the crowd. In a minnit they're back: one holding two tall Tablers, one holding two quwayals onna stikk.
"<span class="mu-g">Bringgum. Mm starvan.</span>" They approach, eyes cold, bending to lay your demands before you.
