- Influence
- 2,564.00
Griblo’s breath hitched in giddy disbelief as the vixen’s cackling offer echoed through the cramped pawnshop.
“Twenty!? Vulpuz’ whiskers, bless yer spirit-whisperin’ soul!” he crowed, arms thrown wide as if he’d just won a prize fight against poverty itself. “Now that’s a beast what sees value when it’s dangled right in front o’ her peepers!”
He shot a triumphant look toward Grubbage, who responded only by grimacing harder and jabbing the broom handle at a stack of rusted tools like they were suddenly the true offenders.
“Too many beasts, too many voices,” Grubbage muttered, swiping his broom suddenly back toward Griblo’s ankles with increasing aggression. “Yer drawin’ flies, Jankweed. Take yer spinnin’ trinket and buzz off before the whole bloody shop smells of ye mange.”
But just as Griblo’s joy reached a rolling boil, the red-furred todd piped up again. It was the very same beast who’d opened with a generous twelve gilders.
“Oh, an’ now y’got questions?” Griblo barked, eyes narrowing to slits, footpaws dodging the prickling bristles of the broom. “You was bidin’ just a moment ago, actin’ all keen...an’ now yer the inquisitor?”
He scoffed, turning toward him with one paw spread dramatically over his heart.
“Lemme tell ya somethin’, foxface. I used that compass, I did. Followed it proper. Through rain, n' cold, and half the inland until it showed me where me heart truly pointed. I took note of it an' stashed the memory away. Then I turned right around and came back 'ere to sell the bloody thing. I don’t need it no more. Not when I already know where I’m headed.”
He stepped back, arms lifted in mock-holy exaltation, grin curling like a well-tied knot.
“Now then,” he purred, casting a sideways glance toward the rest of the crowd. “Shall we hear twenty-five?”
Grubbage growled, and whipped the broom to the floor with a crack.
“No more bids! I run a pawnbroker’s, not a sideshow. Out, Griblo! Take yer circus and scram! I ain't afraid to hire a runner to get Falun.”
But Griblo didn't budge. He was having way too much fun!
“Twenty!? Vulpuz’ whiskers, bless yer spirit-whisperin’ soul!” he crowed, arms thrown wide as if he’d just won a prize fight against poverty itself. “Now that’s a beast what sees value when it’s dangled right in front o’ her peepers!”
He shot a triumphant look toward Grubbage, who responded only by grimacing harder and jabbing the broom handle at a stack of rusted tools like they were suddenly the true offenders.
“Too many beasts, too many voices,” Grubbage muttered, swiping his broom suddenly back toward Griblo’s ankles with increasing aggression. “Yer drawin’ flies, Jankweed. Take yer spinnin’ trinket and buzz off before the whole bloody shop smells of ye mange.”
But just as Griblo’s joy reached a rolling boil, the red-furred todd piped up again. It was the very same beast who’d opened with a generous twelve gilders.
“Oh, an’ now y’got questions?” Griblo barked, eyes narrowing to slits, footpaws dodging the prickling bristles of the broom. “You was bidin’ just a moment ago, actin’ all keen...an’ now yer the inquisitor?”
He scoffed, turning toward him with one paw spread dramatically over his heart.
“Lemme tell ya somethin’, foxface. I used that compass, I did. Followed it proper. Through rain, n' cold, and half the inland until it showed me where me heart truly pointed. I took note of it an' stashed the memory away. Then I turned right around and came back 'ere to sell the bloody thing. I don’t need it no more. Not when I already know where I’m headed.”
He stepped back, arms lifted in mock-holy exaltation, grin curling like a well-tied knot.
“Now then,” he purred, casting a sideways glance toward the rest of the crowd. “Shall we hear twenty-five?”
Grubbage growled, and whipped the broom to the floor with a crack.
“No more bids! I run a pawnbroker’s, not a sideshow. Out, Griblo! Take yer circus and scram! I ain't afraid to hire a runner to get Falun.”
But Griblo didn't budge. He was having way too much fun!
