Failure to Communicate - Fenrir & Tilden
“R-right sir... b-but... as I s-said Sir... it’s... well it’s 3 galleon 6 sickles and you’re...” the clerk gulped and shifted, looking around as though praying for a miracle before he finally continued, “well sir you’re... 10 sickles short...”
Fenrir cocked a brow at the quivering sheep and his lips quirked into an amused expression, “Aye mate... ya did say ‘at didn’ ya?” He ran his tongue slowly over his teeth and then said, slowly and almost politely, “Right bloody polite’a ya ta verify me hear’n’s good.” He winked, “Good on’ya.”
His upper left upper lip curled upward slightly as he sucked on his fang and said, “But... s’odd,” he gestured between them, “See’n as we’re communicatin’ so clear’n all, ‘at ya didn’ hear me tell you,” he looked up into the clerk’s eyes, his own shining a shimmering pearlescent white, “ta count it again...”
