“Fifteh-fifteh,” he agreed, with a slight nod of his head.<br/><br/>Any other race, be it Asura, Human, or even Charr, might have wanted a written contract. Some sort of tangible proof of their agreement. But Azir and this woman were Norn – and in the Shiverpeaks, a person's word still held weight. Thus, their partnership was sealed. He still didn't quite like it, but there was little he could do now. For better or worse the both of them would see this through till it's end, whatever it was. And despite his misgivings, Azir felt a slight weight recede from his shoulders. For months he had chased this fleeting scrap of parchment over hill and dale, river and sea. To finally know that it hadn't all been for naught was comforting.<br/><br/>Her threat snapped his thoughts back to the present, to which he held up his hands, palms outward in a sign of understanding. Despite the unsigned promise of their partnership, it was not in a Norn's nature to pass up a chance to boast or brag – which was exactly what she was doing. 'I'm no simpering whore, you've got a fight on your hands' is what she meant, and as her shoulders turned and lowered, proffering forth the lewd, erotic sight of her squeezable rump barely held in check by those thin black panties, she also seemed to say 'But I know what men like.” . And...Spirits, they were darkening with a faint wetness. Azir felt an all-too familiar stirring somewhere in his gut. A sort of spark that sent a heady wash of blood thundering through his body.<br/><br/>Well, if she was going to play that game, there was no reason he couldn't either.<br/><br/>He caught the thrown coins without looking, the gigantic hands snatching the gold out of the air. Sure, he already had a room, but there was no reason to tell her that. He pocketed the coinage, heaving his bulk off the small table (Which seemed glad to be rid of the weight). Throwing an incredulous look towards her as she sat herself upon the bed, he clicked his tongue.<br/><br/>“I'll take th'floor, thankee. Bloke meh size don't exactly fit intah these human beds. Behsiodes, I'm more used tah sleepin' on th'ground out in th'wilds anyway.”<br/><br/>Turning, he shrugged the massive leather coat from his shoulders. It was heavy, scarred and pitted with the countless memories of a harsh, hard life in the wilderness. Here was a man who had seen the world, and knew it's every path better than the back of his hand. They (the hands that is) laid the coat upon the floor before the fire before moving to unstrap the countless leather belts still entwined about his person. Each one held a blade (Or two), packed tight with pouches holding baubles, supplies, and all matter of necessities. He was deliberate as he laid each aside, taking his time. If she wanted to put on a show, one could bet he would do the same. The thin linen shirt he still wore was the next thing to be pulled off, his bronzed skin catching the flickering dancing lights of the fire as it too was laid down. He was built like a scrapper, less bulk and more lean, corded muscle – Swirling bands of dark blue, such a contrast to those bright golden eyes, wove over and under his arms and broad shoulders, extending in long sweeping lines down his sinewy back. An auburn thatch of hair covered his chest and arms like the mane on his head, spilling down his chest till it flared right at the waist of his leather and cotton pants. There would be no mistaking the sizable bulge those trousers barely hid – it was only logical that a monstrously tall man would have a monstrously sized manhood. And when he locked his fingers together to stretch the kinks from his spine, it moved and hitched enticing with lustful promise.<br/><br/>Lowering his hands, he turned to kneel and stoke the fire, “Earlieh, aye. Don' much fanceh stayin' around an' having tah dodge tha' human girl wha' was making' eyes at meh earliah tahnight.”<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>