I’m not an artist I’m a fucking work of art
"Promises, promises." The ringleader of the whole charade practically filled the pathway all by himself, and the two lackeys behind him seemed keen to see around him. Still, he swaggered forward and held out his hand, the cloth bag sitting fat in the centre of his palm.
"It's all there, clear as day. Mageglass ain't cheap, darlin'. You better be serious about what you're offerin', or we'll have to up the ante on our prices." He jerked his chin at her, waiting for her to take the fucking bag and cough up her own goods.
"It's all there, clear as day. Mageglass ain't cheap, darlin'. You better be serious about what you're offerin', or we'll have to up the ante on our prices." He jerked his chin at her, waiting for her to take the fucking bag and cough up her own goods.
