Taking Sbatarra's hand in his own- though he felt her strength, he made sure not to put as much effort into it as she, since he would have likely broken her fingers- Baltazar gave it a firm shake in return. "Indeed, as much as I'm sure you'd like to do it, I'd rather let her live. I've heard that her type have strange practices when it comes to loss, and I'd like to see just what it is."<br/><br/>He turned to face the bar again, though he cocked a sideways glance at her. "The second half of your pay all depends on if you want to either love or hate. While I have my suspicions, I'm never one to rely on assumptions to judge people, so I'll leave it up to you."<br/><br/>With the knife in hand once more, Baltazar cut into another one of the tiny limes and took a mouthful of the cream liqueur before squeezing the juice in and swishing the stuff around. Guzzling it down, He looked at Sbatarra again and said, "Have it, it's called a Mortar Man. Really quite good if you can get past the texture," offering the bottle to her. Either the drink was terribly weak or Baltazar had a stomach of iron, as he didn't look even slightly tipsy after having five shots of the liqueur.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>