Zhi snickered. It was a cold sound, and the look that she gave him was openly scornful as she tucked the gil away. She picked a bone out of the mess in her mouth, flicked it aside and swallowed. She pushed off the wall, faced him square, and crouched. At that height, they were more or less eye to eye. She reached out a hand, placing it against the wall next to his head, blocking his face from sight of thoroughfare to her right and his left.
"Ye want t'have a fit? Have it in yer room. Have it wi' a whore. Have it 'round Thatcher. Don't go weepin' an' wailin' wi'me. Ain't me business if ye want t'carry on like a spoiled brat what lost his favorite toy, but ye ain't gonna do it 'round me. Fancy?"
Her smile was slim, and all edge. Her voice was quiet. "Now, ye want t'spend more gil on me after this take? We'll deal. But I don't deal wi' brats what can't control their little temper-tantrums. So wipe up yer ruttin' face, an' act like a sellsword, an' not some kid what got hold o' da's blade. We've work t'do."
"Ye want t'have a fit? Have it in yer room. Have it wi' a whore. Have it 'round Thatcher. Don't go weepin' an' wailin' wi'me. Ain't me business if ye want t'carry on like a spoiled brat what lost his favorite toy, but ye ain't gonna do it 'round me. Fancy?"
Her smile was slim, and all edge. Her voice was quiet. "Now, ye want t'spend more gil on me after this take? We'll deal. But I don't deal wi' brats what can't control their little temper-tantrums. So wipe up yer ruttin' face, an' act like a sellsword, an' not some kid what got hold o' da's blade. We've work t'do."
