Azmaveth looked at the other demon as if he were a human trying to sell him back his own soul. There was something to admire in the boldness to even begin and charge such a price for the half-starved and filthy whelp that stood before him. A good breeze would have likely caused the sad little thing to just tip over or better yet, just fly away. Even with the added<span style="font-style: italic">bonus</span>of a talent he was not about to pay such a high price for something that was likely worth less than the grime that was on the bottom of his boots.<br/><br/>“Hmmm,” he mused intentionally aloud while he began his own examination. “This thing looks hardly fit to clean the public stalls here, let alone come home with me,” he sighed and snatched at her wrist to pull her arm forth.  Sticks and bones, this is what she was made up of; Hardly an ounce of fat or real substance to her, so he truly did not see how he could ask for such a price. Two fingers grasped her chin which he pulled down roughly to examine her teeth. “Dirty…poorly kept….” He muttered aloud for the benefit of the man who thought to try and pawn off this creature.<br/><br/>“Let’s see what kind of voice it has,” he stated after a moment. “I can tell you now you can forget that number in your head now, but how it sounds may determine what I may give you.”