it's not what it looks like
Ianto merely shrugs at that - it isn't his decision as to what Oliver decides to bring with him on the move to the Greatwood, after all. "There's plenty of room," is all he says, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder and into the (not-that-large-looking) wagon. As for the price? He can't comment on what Remi has told Oliver, only on what he has deemed the cost for the move to the Greatwood.
Oliver starts talking and Ianto settles in, drawing again from his pipe and exhaling a smoke ring, listening intently. The memory certainly sounds like a fond one, and the expression on the fox's face is almost Fae in its intensity. The merchant seems to see more than in the story, collecting up the information and storing it away for later. It is a transaction, after all.
"I think that will do quite nicely," he says with a nod and a satisfied smile, lolling back against the wagon doors. "Where are you in the Hollowed Grounds? I'll swing by in a couple of days."
Oliver starts talking and Ianto settles in, drawing again from his pipe and exhaling a smoke ring, listening intently. The memory certainly sounds like a fond one, and the expression on the fox's face is almost Fae in its intensity. The merchant seems to see more than in the story, collecting up the information and storing it away for later. It is a transaction, after all.
"I think that will do quite nicely," he says with a nod and a satisfied smile, lolling back against the wagon doors. "Where are you in the Hollowed Grounds? I'll swing by in a couple of days."
