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"What... what would you like sir?" the frightened waitress asked.
The bald headed man withdrew one of the many daggers that lined his chest, his head tilted forward, eyes burrowing into the table. He pointed the knife absently in the direction of the rest of the restaurant, in the general direction of the bird, perched upon a woman's shoulder.
"I might be in the mood for a little fowl," he said, a grin extending upon his face as his fingers began to drum the table. "I think I spied something on the way in that would fit the bill."
The spectacled indivudal, without turning aside, simply put a hand on the wrist of the man. "Sir, I would more than enjoy to help you acquire the bird. However, don't you think this should wait until after the meeting? We do still have an appointment with One-Eye's agents."
The mention of the name brought the sanity and reason back to the bald man's eyes. "Right you are, of course," he said, setting the knife down upon the table, the cold steel returning to his face though the slight amusement remained on his lips, his soulless eyes piercing those of the waitress. "Gingerale, please. No laughs," he said, his grin widening, his index finger tapping on the handle of his knife. The waitress nodded, mouth agape as she turned away, taking quick steps back to the bar.
The bald headed man withdrew one of the many daggers that lined his chest, his head tilted forward, eyes burrowing into the table. He pointed the knife absently in the direction of the rest of the restaurant, in the general direction of the bird, perched upon a woman's shoulder.
"I might be in the mood for a little fowl," he said, a grin extending upon his face as his fingers began to drum the table. "I think I spied something on the way in that would fit the bill."
The spectacled indivudal, without turning aside, simply put a hand on the wrist of the man. "Sir, I would more than enjoy to help you acquire the bird. However, don't you think this should wait until after the meeting? We do still have an appointment with One-Eye's agents."
The mention of the name brought the sanity and reason back to the bald man's eyes. "Right you are, of course," he said, setting the knife down upon the table, the cold steel returning to his face though the slight amusement remained on his lips, his soulless eyes piercing those of the waitress. "Gingerale, please. No laughs," he said, his grin widening, his index finger tapping on the handle of his knife. The waitress nodded, mouth agape as she turned away, taking quick steps back to the bar.
![[Image: Mog%20House%20Final.jpg]](http://usera.ImageCave.com/DaishiGajo/Mog%20House%20Final.jpg)