Xen watched her carefully as she considered his offer, totally unashamed of his open stare. He could almost see the old-fashioned gears and cogs rolling in tandem inside her skull (gears and cogs hadn't been used since ancient times, but they would fit her style), and he couldn't keep the amused smirk from curving his lips yet again. The shop's proprietor couldn't be certain, but she didn't look too pleased with his suggestion. And she shouldn't, really. He had expected her to fume and bluster for a moment, talk about an offer that she already had for more elsewhere, and then threaten to leave unless he made it at least seven thousand credits. That was the sellers did, after all, street thugs and hirelings alike.<br/><br/>Rather, the punkish miss decided to disrupt the well-worn song and dance with a side-step and a twirl. Xen's eyes widened slightly as she revealed a second C34-9v; almost immediately they darted to the treasure-trove knapsack, but she had already folded the top, as though expecting his prying curiosity. He smoothly re-focused on her, leaning forward to illustrate his interest.<span style="color: #FFBF40"><span style="font-weight: bold">"I would be happy to take the second one off your hands,"</span></span>he started casually,<span style="color: #FFBF40"><span style="font-weight: bold">"Of course, were there any <span style="font-style: italic">more</span> to speak of..."</span></span><br/><br/>The dark-haired man gave his head a brief inclination toward her backpack, letting the unspoken question linger for only a second before continuing,<span style="color: #FFBF40"><span style="font-weight: bold">"... I would certainly be remiss if I did not offer an... added compensation for the convenience. Perhaps, say, 6000 credits per unit?"</span></span>For a brief moment, the professional, smooth-salesman air dropped away and he grinned broadly at the girl,<span style="color: #FFBF40"><span style="font-weight: bold">"Could even throw the Voxel free-of-charge, as my compliments for the condition of the product,"</span></span>he said as he dropped his elbows to the counter top, now looking just slightly up to see her face.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFBF"><span style="font-weight: bold">"Master,"</span></span>piped the android from his shadowed corner, his eyes glowing a faint teal for a moment but otherwise harboring no changes,<span style="color: #00BFBF"><span style="font-weight: bold">"Celi Mar has moved into the perimeter. Estimated time of arrival is six minutes and forty-two seconds."</span></span><br/><br/>Xen immediately straightened and his grin disappeared, eyes flickering as he thought for a moment. She was early. Always early, that woman; if she were strung any tighter she'd snap with the next sneeze. The time it took for recognized signatures to reach his shop from the moment Gil sensed them crossing the boundaries was usually upwards of fourteen minutes, but Mar's "casual" walk usually made a grown man trot to keep up. It wasn't the best timing, particularly given that he had completely forgotten. That last thing he wanted was a Enforcement-aligned bounty hunter coming for a visit during his discussion with a thief who's hands were likely still thick with the scent of her last victim. He wasn't worried for his own state -Mar needed him, after all-, but she had no such reliance on a random street thugs. It wasn't exactly said thug's "state" he was worried about, either.<br/><br/>Unfortunately for the black market dealer, if the pink-haired lass was apprehended, Mar would want the merchandise. And, unfortunately for the bounty hunter, Xen rather wanted that merchandise.<br/><br/>He gave his head a little shake and heaved a short sigh, blinking slowly to clear his mind. There was no sense in worrying about it right now. He always thought better under pressure, anyway. In the end, he would get what he sought... he usually did. Xen kept a searching eye on the young thief, wondering if she recognized the name his android had mentioned: Celi Mar had put away more than a few fugitives, and her name was something of an official swear word in the Enforcement HQ prison- in fact, there were many individuals from the seedier niches of society that, if they saw the bounty hunter on fire and had a cup of water and were<span style="font-style: italic">not</span>thirsty, would drink the water anyway. Still watching her, the bespectacled young man offered the girl a conspiratory half-smile as he dropped to his elbows again.<span style="color: #FFBF40"><span style="font-weight: bold">"You may want to play along for a bit, when she gets here. I would advise against running."</span></span>He followed this with a casual shrug, as though to say "Eh, what can you do, right?"