It was an overcast, slightly threatening morning when the muluku island ferry pulled into the Harbor, bearing her fruitful load of spices, mugrobi bits and pieces, and a large, fresh haul of Sweet Redfin. The red scaled fish, twice as long as a mans arm and armed with a long pointed beak and high sail like fin came to the warmer waters near the isles only one a year to mate, and the dark skinned islanders took great advantage of that. The dark red flesh of the fish was a sweet and tender meat, with hardly any bones, beautiful served baked in a beach oven with garlic and salt. Not to mention, the roe. A bright scarlet delicacy that tasted of the sea and the sun, toe curlingly amazing on the crispy flat bread the islanders sold off the ferry.

It was this heavy, shimmering red load that drew occupants from the Rose, even from out of it. Swarms of pirates and vagabonds danced around the harbor, between Bad Brothers and tumbles, calling out prices as the ferrymen held up the fish one at a time like a cattle auction. The roe had already been removed from the majority of the fish, sitting in a huge barrel, being sold off by the bowl or the barrelful. The mood was cheerful, with everyone keeping a careful eye on the weather as they bid for the biggest and the best looking fish. Those biggest fish were reserved for the high rollers, making amazing trophey pieces for the local big wigs.

The ferry master stood in front of the jostling crowd, pointing to a huge red fish laying on the wood of the dock in front of him.

"..not to mention, biggest of the haul! This massive female is as tall as me! She has got a perfect beak and her scales are undamaged! Look at the sail too! High and unmarred! And today, for the winning bidder, we will be giving the roe of this female, on its own worth a concord! Starting bid, three shills! Accepting birds as well! Who starts! You sir, for three shills! Do I have four? Four shills!?"

The overcast-but-not-yet-raining weather compelled Charlie to go out. He had hit a standstill with his tinkering the night before, and it frustrated him enough to not want to stay inside. For a moment he toyed with the idea of going to Shook's again, but at the last minute changed his mind and veered towards the harbor proper. The ferry should be in, and was one of the few places Charlie Ewing flashed money. He was a man of meagre means for a galdor, and what means he did have were oft spent on little luxuries. Like roe.

He sighed, a little wistfully. The particularly big ones were far out of his range, but he could still take at least some pieces home. Or, if not fish... Well, the afternoon could still be profitable. He shuffled over to someone hawking slightly smaller fish at lower prices, trying to find what seemed like the best deal.

Nivious sat in the back of the crowd, cloak drawn about himself as he watched the goings on of the crowd. He was not there to bid- in fact, he hardly cared for sea food. But he did quite enjoy himself during events such as these, sometimes shocked at just how much a rich man was willing to pay for one fish. It was a bit ridiculous, to be honest, but it was certainly interesting to watch. It was a more relaxed sort of entertainment, not nearly so exciting as the jobs offered by the Brothers, and that suited him just fine.

Havek had every intention of staying at the back of the crowd. Shouldering through all these people would take far too much confidence. He had no coin to spare on pretty fish anyhow (and nowhere to keep a fish, to be honest) but smelling was free. And looking was free. And remembering was free. But in spite of himself, his feet had been compelled to move. It was slow and silent work, worming his way towards the front of the crowd. He just had to eye the fish the auctioneer was jawing about. And oh! It was such a lovely specimen. He usually never believed a word a hawker spouted, but the damn thing was beautiful, just beautiful –

Beautiful in color, in shape, in memory. Sweet Redfin was just so...Mugroba. To Havek, fish meant family, meant food, meant small dark girl-hands skittering over a cutting board. And the spices! The ssea air all thick with aromatics. Salty breezes through a kitchen casement, remembering girls who’s skin smelled like curry, pepper, and sweat. Not to mention the food. . The fish had been a delicacy he’d rarely gotten his teeth into, but when he did... Skewered and grilled, or sliced to ribbons and stewed in a pot, or served over curried rice, steaming noodles thick with – mmh. It made his stomach flip. He realized, then, that there was a good reason he didn’t think about food. Anxious fingers twined in frazzled ropes of hair. He hoped a sharp tug or two would keep him grounded.

He must’ve looked something between spacey and reverent, all weaving fingers and biting lips. Havek forced himself to look away from the delicious spectacle before he started to salivate. Perhaps...perhaps it would be good to see a fish monger, someone selling something more in his range. He began awkwardly picking his way back through the crowd, searching.

There were many things involved with choosing a fishmonger, as far as Charlie was concerned. For most people this would be something like the quality of the wares, or perhaps the fairness of the prices. Charlie Ewing was not a man to make decisions in such a sensible way, and as such he tended to pick them entirely based on the actual person doing the selling. Did they have an interesting face, some sort of eye-catching visual quality? Sometimes he picked them based on a voice that caught his attention, or an outfit he liked. Often it seemed he gave it no thought at all, though this was almost certainly not the case.

Today he picked a girl, spry and small, probably about the age of 13. Learning from her parents, perhaps, or maybe just getting a trade. She had small hands with dark black tips, delicate tattoo work traveling up her arms that drew him over. It was as he handed her the money for a fine mid-sized fish-- overpaying, always overpaying --and a small smattering of roe that he spotted a rather familiar and towering figure. His face cracked open in an entirely unwholesome way; the girl backed off a little, suddenly aware of how terrifying men like Charlie could be. With a nod in her general direction, he threaded his way through the crowd towards Havek, fish in hand and terrible things on his mind.

"Five shills! Do I hear more? Come on my fellow fishermen, a catch like this does not come along every day. She would be a trophy you could be proud of for years and years, and the roe. So sweet, so fresh. Hulali himself could not have thrown a better fish into our midst's!" The hawker called out, pointing at raised hands in the crowd, drawing in more interest. One man in particular, a tall wirey fellow raised his hand at the same time as another, thicker, beefier man.

"A concord!" He called out. Beefman glared at him, shaking his hand.

"Oi! Concord and two shills!" Frowning at him, the wirey man huffed.

"Concord and five."

"Concord and ten!"

"Fifteen!" Beefman lowered his hand and stomped over to the wirey man, grabbing him by the shirt collar.

"I'm buyin' that fish, ye hear! So stop yer biddin'!" Pouting in the face of the huge, muscled man, the smaller fellow scoffed.

"What would a ruffian like you do with such a catch apart from devour it? Clocks, its a trophy fish!" Growling, Beefman shook him.

"It's my fish! A concord and twenty!" His voice was a roar, lifting the man higher as he shook him. The hawker had stopped calling for bids, glancing fretfully at his ferry and its haul, nodding to the ferry hands. Discretely, they began to loosen the moor ropes, wanting to move the haul away from the slowly dissolving scenario, aware of what rioters were capable of.

"S-sold for a concord twenty. Come and collect your fish sir!" The wirey man, held high above the crowd wailed loudly.

"No! I'll pay double! It's not right!" With a disbelieving cry, the Beefman hurled the man into the crowd.

"Oi! It's mine! I'll kill you!!!" He screamed, spittle flying from his lips and blade drawing from his side. It was on. All around, people pushed others to get away from the big insane brute, instigating their own smaller brawls. It spread like wildfire across the harbor, people shouting and screaming, beating each other with whatever they had on hand, knives and pistols drawing. The ferry men lept back onto the boat, beating back the looting rioters with long poles as they pushed away from the dock, not prepared to loose such a fine catch to the hands of these crazed people.

Things had been going so smooth, at first, people rattling off their bids, trying to outdo one another. And then there was a bit of s ruckus, and the albino noticed the huge man in the middle of the crowd starting a fight, and from there it was like a huge rock had been dropped into a once-calm pond, sending waves splashing in every direction. Oh, clocks, things had suddenly gotten way out of hand. So much for a relaxing day at the harbor... Oh, well. Vi grinned, despite his previous longing for a lazy day, more than a little excited for an all-out brawl that would be so much more than a barfight, he whipped out his blade, and- spotting an opening- leaped into the fray.

Aye had been wandering around the harbor, when a ferry pulled in and docked. It was a nice day, even with the dark clouds, so the girl decided it might be fun to watch the bidding and drool over that huge fish.

She was enjoying listening to the fierce bidding war, when all of the sudden two men started fist fighting. Aye liked watching fights, and this beefman guy was funny to listen to, but then other people joined in starting a riot. This was her cue to leave. She knew what happened to children who were under peoples feet in riots, and she had no desire to experience it herself.

The girl pushed passed people, dodging hits and kicks, and ducked under some more people, but it didn't seem like she was getting too far. She started sweating and biting her lip, she had just seen someone with a knife! This was getting more dangerous then she thought it would. Her eyes grew as she started to panic. People all around her were being beaten, punched in the face, kneed in the gut, bloodying noses... She crawled over an unconscious persons body, and screamed when a weapon almost hit her. Aye stood and ran through the tightly packed crowd, tripping a few times, and knocking into people in her hurry to escape.

((sorry for the wait~))

As the voices and tensions rose, Havek found himself shuffling his way through the crowd with more alacrity than he usually would’ve thought polite. A litany of mumbled ‘excuse me's and meek bows preceded him as he threaded his way through the masses. Spending years and years locked on ships of testosterone-laden timebombs had a way of making one quick to notice brewing trouble. And how to slink away before that trouble comes to boil. Did this make him a coward? A bit, yes. But better a living coward than a dead hero.

He shivered and only tried to wriggle through faster when he aspied the particularly beefy man seizing the other. Oh, not good, not good – a shout, a body colliding with the planks – very much not good. Why were these folks so intent on rubber-necking at the conflict? Why wouldn’t they just let him pass? He just wanted to get out out out before anything ha—

The first gunshot shattered the roar of the crowd. Among the flying fists, the swords and pistols flashing all around, Havek was trapped on the raggedy edge of the mob. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, or anything – and much less, he didn’t want to get hurt himself. He’d stopped all attempts at moving for fear of knocking into a brawl and being dragged in, he just weakly bleated pleas for passage. His hand sank into his satchel, digging through broken glass and old hewn hair to clutch the pommel of a machete in trembly fingers.

No matter how hard he tried to avoid it, trouble had a damn good knack for finding him.

Charlie Ewing, despite all appearances to the contrary, was a man who did not like trouble. Especially trouble he was not directly responsible for. So when he heard the gunshot and saw the ensuing chaos, his only thought was to get out of there with his fish as quickly as possible. He was no hero, that was for sure, and he wasn't about to get himself injured by a bunch of harbour no-accounts when out buying a spot of seafood. Charlie's field was not exactly intimidating by galdori standards, but he was still more magical than anyone else there. He sort of flexed his meagre field at people, trying to make it as obvious as possible that the man with a boot in their backside was a golly, and therefore turning around and hitting him back would probably be unwise.

It was a bit more difficult than he had anticipated, trying to fight his way through the unruly mob while protecting his purchase. In a fit of frustration, an offending limb became a prime target. Charlie may not have been Vita's best magician, but even he could at least make the attempt to cast Break on someone's bone. When Charlie cast spells, it tended to be in a sort of rough burst of monite that he knew, for a fact, was the bulk of the reason he could do nothing beyond the sort of rough, pushy spells required of his mechanical work. Ah well. No one could ever accuse him of being a delicate man.

Aye was both tired and panicked now, this crowd wasn't easy to fight. She had been pushed out of peoples ways quite a few times, tripped over unconscious people, and run from people holding weapons. She yelped when she heard the gunshots, her ears were ringing, and she couldn't see through all of these people. She cringed out of someones way and tripped again, screeching when someone stepped on her hand.

She yanked it back off the ground, shot up to her feet, and was pushed roughly from behind. The push threw her off balance, and she had to run a few steps to try and stay upright. Her attempts were crushed when she tripped over one of Havek's shoes, and landed sprawled out face down on the ground over his other foot.

The machete slashed through the air before he even knew why, where, and what he was slashing at. He’d wrenched it from his bag so fast the blade tore at the leather, a small spray of broken phial glass arcing out after it. A very solid something had come flying across his path; the machete whistled past just above that little something’s head. A sharp Mugrobi curse tore past his lips when the little thing went crashing across his boots. His eye swiveled frantically over the small body, and a flash-in-the-pan of horror flared in him. A little girl. He’d nearly hacked down a little girl. It took a few quick seconds for the idea of it to sink in.

For the first time in a long time, his free hand relinquished its protective grip on the satchel. He crouched down and a long, spindly arm flashed out, snatching up the first bit of her he could claw his fingers around. Clutching at a fistful of knotted hair, he hauled her up from the ground. The panicked bustle of the crowd, all falling bodies and crushing feet – she would’ve been trampled. An arm lashed across the girl, pulling her back against him, spindle fingers gripping her upper arm. The whole string of movements were quick and rough. He didn’t say anything comforting, didn’t explain himself – he just held her there, a gesture bordering on protective.

The sudden hard wash of a flexing field almost made his knees buckle. Something in it bore a ghost of familiarity, the faint twinge of memory. Familiar or not, he’d never felt it like this before – too weak for a galdor, too strong for a wick. It felt rough, unrefined, like a hard hand clenching around him. It looked as though he wasn't the only one feeling it, either. Directly around, it seemed like knots of people were loosening, cringing away from it, jostling him from side to side. It wasn’t nearly enough movement for him to break free of the masses, however – especially not while dragging a small girl.

Havek turned to face the oncoming whatever-it-was, tried to shuffle back into the easing mass of the crowd, all while dragging the smaller wick along with him. His machete hand was raised in front of him, another small defense between the child and the mob.

((I hope no one hates me for jumping in and modding. ))

The mona was well aware of Charlie's inadequacies, having managed to acquiesce to keeping him alive throughout his education and continuing to listen to him in most of his limited callings on them now that he'd settled into his life in the Harbor. No, their relationship was far from the closest one, but the sentient molecules tended to value the living in some obscure way and did tend to feel obligated to help those in need when asked nicely.

Charlie's hasty casting did create an audible buzz in his field, a physical bristling at his roughness with the spell. They ... mostly complied. The leg in the young galdor's focus apparently suddenly felt warm to the man it belonged to. Warm like something was on fire on the inside. If nothing was broken, it was at least hurting, for he danced and hopped until he reached for it, leaning over with a pained groan.

By his expression, nothing was broken but it certainly hurt. And pissed. The man began searching the crowd, Charlie's field making him more than a little obvious. He was drawing a weapon, cursing and red-faced in his suffering, a pistol, gurgling choice words about the galdor's own heritage as he struggled to point it in his direction.

The young galdor paled at the sight of the gun. He knew that illegal firearms were not exactly uncommon in the Harbor, but it hadn't occurred to him until right then that botching up a spell like Break could get him shot. He hastily tried to duck out of the way, though it was entirely possible the boy was just too damn slow.

When aye went sprawling and hit the ground, she heard a sickening crunch and felt searing pain all through her face. Her nose was bloody, and when she lifted her head slightly off the ground it hurt badly. The girl heard the sound of a weapon slashing through the air, and felt it touch her hair. a few small strands had been cut, and hung loose from the loop they belonged to. She almost screamed, but realized she was on someones shoes. Aye was about to look up and back away, but the pain in her nose made her dizzy.

Suddenly she felt pain in her scalp, someone was pulling her hair! whoever that someone was, was hauling her up into their arms. She was going to protest, but a sharp pang of pain stopped her. She scrunched her eyes closed, and wound her arm around the arm of whoever was holding her to grip her bleeding nose. She felt that she was either being protected, or kidnapped. She like the first option better. "At least I'm off the ground...." she thought.

It was then that she felt a field, it was stronger than hers, so it had to be a galdor, and felt the person holding her tense up. "whats going on? Why is this kov scared?" she thought, before pain in her head distracted her.

((Aye, please be careful about god-modding what happens to you; that's our job. I apologize for not noticing Havek's entire action before. I ... I don't know if I should continue modding since Sho knows what's going to happen better than myself.))

The angry man wasn't quite stupid enough to shoot directly at a golly, but he wasn't about to just miss him as a warning shot. Still cursing like a sailor far from land, he began to turn towards Charlie, aiming. Then, the real results of the spell made themselves apparent and the man stumbled, crashing to his face. He still pulled the trigger, the loud bang piercing the chaos.

Something sharp and painful sliced across Charlie's arm. It was like a huge, terrible paper cut. And it burned. Luckily, it was just a nick, not the entire bullet.

Havek managed to haul Aye up and out of the way for now at least, but given the uncomfortable hastiness of his snatching, she had every right to protest his protecton.

"Clocking human bastard, I'm going to wreck the shi--" Charlie swore and clenched his teeth, biting off the end of his sentence. That anyone would have the gall to even graze him was just beyond the beyond. He knew that the Harbour was a lawless hive of all the dregs of Anaxas, so much so that no decent galdor would be seen spending over much time here. Still, to be shot at! What absolute cheek that man had, pointing a gun at someone so obviously better than him. The indignity of it set his teeth on edge, and added a little force and cruelty to his violent efforts. Still, he was struggling. Graze or not, his arm hurt like hell. It was hard enough to force his way through the crowd with one wholly functioning arm, but the pain was distracting. He needed something, or someone, to compensate and get him the hell out of there. "Damn!"

It had been one long morning for Vivian. Her mum hadn't needed her help in the morning, although she had waken up really early. While other people might have been irritated by that, Viv was used to it. It had been a quick decision to go wandering near the pier. Maybe she could hear something about his papa.
But catching news wasn't that easy, as Vivian had thought. The harbor was filled with more people than usually in those hours. Soon Viv understood why. With great intrest she watched from away how people were bidding. But in the moment the groud started moving nervously as one of the men started to get furios, Vivian moved herself behind the barrel pile. You couldn't see a thing behind them, but atleast when those people would start moving quickly, she wouldn't be on the way. It was usual, that when something sparked fighting at the piers, there was people trying to get out of the way and people, who would use the distraction to pickpocket or even kill someone. Vivian wanted to avoid both.
The loud bang startled Viv. She hesitade at first, but after the second bang, she carefully put her head out to see what had just happened. There were still a lot of people, but she could see the man holding gun. It was quite clear, from the unusual position of the mans leg, that it was broken. Viv quickly viewed to the opposite direction from the man and saw another man obviously been hit by one of two bullets fired. He wasn't that far away from the barrels and the man who hold the gun was distracted, so Viv made a quick decision. What ever the reason was that short kind of man had been shot for, it surely wasn't enough of a reason to kill. But knowing the hot tempered harbor guys, it was a great posibility, if you pissed one off. Viv made a quick run, but seeing the man more closely, she hesitated.
He's a galdor... The hesitation was only for moment. Questions and consequences would have to be dealed later. Right now she would have to get herself and this man out from the way of the gunman.
"Quickly, behind the barrels." She said to the man without any certain expression on her face.

Sparkles loved a good fight. When he rounded the corner to pick up his daily fish, he was elated to see the landing engrossed in a fight. He cracked the knuckles on his only hand and then gave them a flex and surveyed the brawl with the air of one regarding the dessert cart at a fine restaurant... Which to pick?

His delicate musings were cut short as he noticed a tiny wick girl caught up in the midst of the battle and his eye squinted. Blast and damn. There goes the fun of it all...

He shouldered his way through the mass, jabbing his hook where necessary to force his way through. The wee wick reminded him of his youngest, honestly, and he couldn't fight the urge to give a hand. He noticed the fist clutching at her, and the fellow attached to it. He seemed to be protecting her, but having only one hand available, seemed to be having a hard time of it. Well, I'll lend him mine and we'll make a pair.

He reached them in the depths of the fight and scooped an arm under her midsection, " 'Ey'a, kov, needa hand? I'll carry if you make a path." He offered the man a gap-toothed, green smile that would rust a new-forged sword, but his grizzled appearance couldn't hide the good intentions in his eye.

Havek cringed back at the fresh recoil of the gunshot, biting back a sound between a growl and a whimper. It was too close, too godsdamn close this time. The bark of the voice – pain-laced and littered with curses, he could only assume that this was the man on the wrong end of the gun. His field seemed to hiss with the pain, sending another cold shiver over Havek's skin. That field, that voice, had been following him like a lecherous cloud for the past few days. Master Charlie?

The reek of blood, gunpowder, and sea water was coaxing up the old healer instinct in him. He didn't like the galdor, not at all, but it grated against whatever flimsy morals he had to let a man bleed out from a bullet. And, and? As much as the thought made his stomach churn, the man seemed...sweet on him. Perhaps having a golly to carve a path for him would be too his – he squeezed the little girl tight against his chest – well, their advantage. And so Havek did something Haveks never do. He raised his voice.

“Master Charlie, sir!” it was strained and a bit cracked from disuse, but his shout was still loud as it ever was.



Feeling the tug on the girl, he whipped around to face the culprit. The man looked like something scraped off the hull of a ship, but his good intention rang clear enough. He roughly, wordlessly pushed the girl into the other man's arms. Havek might have felt a twinge of sympathy for her, being roughly shoved between a pair of rather hideous, one-eyed men. But then he figured as a street urchin she must have already seen worse, far worse.

His yellow eye flickered over the older man's hook hand, impassive cast flickering with hostility for just half a second. “Jus'...jus' don't ya stick 'er with tha' or...” his muttering ended there for he was never any good with threats. He turned to to face the roiling mass between himself and the injured young golly in lieu of finishing the sentence. A young golly who could possibly help with this whole 'clearing a path' business.

“..'scuse me, sir, pardon an' such, nothin' personal,” he gave a respectful little nod to the closest man in front of him and hissed the burst of monite for Sparks, the spell focused on the fellow's face and neck. The machete wouldn't be employed unless absolutely nessescary The days as a maritime healer had hopefully thickened his bond with the fickle Mona. He had no intention of harming anyone more than he needed too, intending the spell to be more of a cattle prod for the man to move, please than to cause any real injury. These Rose folks didn't seem to respond well to words.

The girl heard the voice, belonging to another man, and tried to turn and look. There was only one problem with that, she didn't want to open her eyes. Her nose still hurt, and this headache didn't seem to want to go away.



"what?! stick me with what?" she wondered a bit fearful, but didn't resist being handed over. She was extremely glad to be out from underneath peoples feet, especially since the crowd was getting more and more violent. She just hoped these two men would get her and themselves out of the mess, or at least keep away from gunpoint.

Charlie Ewing neither liked nor supported the idea of clothed human girls who did not want to have sex with him. In fact, he especially did not support the idea after a human had just clocking shot him. So the last thing he wanted to do was follow this strange girl behind any barrels at all. His field was still all abuzz from agitation and his recent use of magic, not to mention his efforts to come off as aggressive as possible. So when he rounded on her he was possibly somewhat intimidating, height and fish notwithstanding. When he had begged for anyone, he thought with a touch of irritation creeping in to his mental voice, he had not actually meant anyone. He considered throwing magic at her, too, just to let off some steam, but the sharp agony in his arm was a reminder that this did not go well for him last he attempted it.

"I'm not following any filthy human girl anywhere, and you'd best step back from me, child." It was then that he looked up and saw the towering shadow of a man that was Havek approaching... Well approaching him. This was something new, and the expression on his face, observed by outsiders, was nothing short of terrifying.

The mona was already rather heatedly active in this place, perhaps because of the nature of the chaos, the mix of wicks and galdor, the hum of a few other mumbled spells. Havek finished his words and hot, wild flashes of light crackled and appeared from nowhere, almost feeling like an expression of the tension of the air, as if the mona was letting off so much steam. They hardly seemed annoyed, if they felt anything at all, and simply complied.

The man hissed in surprise, not close enough to be burned so much as caught off-guard and partially blinded, waving his hands in front of his face and stumbling out of the way. At least that path was clearer now.

“S'cuse me, sorry, thanks muchly, sir--”

Havek squirmed past the man quick as he could. His free hand was back, touching the sea-shorn man's shoulder – he didn't want to lose them -- the other holding the machete at the ready. The trembling was fading from his fingers. It was all coming back to him, the weak waters of calm. They must have made quite the awkward looking procession, worming their way towards the edge of the mob.

A few bodies later, he could glimpse the familiar galdor over the heads of the crowd. And with him – a terribly concerned, terribly young human girl. What was Vita coming to, letting all their poor girls run about unprotected like this! His minor field bristled at the thickening scent of blood coming off of Charlie, metallic and warm. His head spun for a moment, put quickly everything was steadying for him. In the midst of bustle and blood, Havek was becoming...placid. These were familiar things. Things he had dealt with, once upon a time. The major difference being the lack of roiling ocean beneath his boots.

Havek roughly shoved his empty hand between the shoulders two men, snatching at the front of Charlie's coat with a sharp tug. But he released it with a snap, as if burned -- manhandling an Anaxi golly, even a 'friendly' one, would probably only exacerbate the situation.

“Master Charlie, sir -- You was the one causin' a ruckus with yer field, ea? Please array a path for us? I'll fix yer wounds, I'll watch yer back, anythin', jus'--help.” His voice was a touch breathless, yet unnaturally calm. His expression was, as ever, rigid.

Havek's lone eye swiveled to Vivian. When he spoke, the tone was far softer. “You, girl – keep close.”

His face split into a wide grin. Well well, this was shaping up into a more worthwhile venture after all. "Anything?" he purred, forgetting the fight and the harbor and the human girl and even the fish. "Such an offer to make in front of a child." He knew exactly what he wanted, though not sure if he wanted to get it. Yet. The offer was promising, and for once he wasn't in the mood to be coy. Having an arm sticky with your own blood could do that. "You know, I think, precisely what I want from you. In the interest of expedience," he said, eying the crowd with no little apprehension, "I will accept a small downpayment and use my astonishing sphere of influence to muscle our way out of this mess, hmm? Sounds fair to me."