He grinned and clapped his hand. "Good girl, good girl! We'll be rich, you n' I. Fuckin' rich... You grab his weasley little digit, will ya?" He waved a hand toward where a small trickle of blood was flowing down the other mans. "We gotta be quick, see, cause if it gets reported as dead they'll revoke access. And, uh... Well, there's one or two other teeny tiny complications, but we don't need to worry about -that- do we!"<br/><br/>He jabbed his finger toward the mans hand again, insistently, as though to restate 'go on, then!' to the girl.<br/><br/>He'd won their little turf war, then, and quite possibly earned himself a sleek, sexy partner in the process. Win win, for Darrith the Quick-Witted. It was a self-given nickname.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>