As the door slammed open, a towering figure of a man marched in. Dressed in practical leather armor and heavy duty apron, both a dark red. He was cassually Running the blades of two meat cleavers across one another, enjoting the slight shreak of metal on metal the the ocassional spark. "Well well, Mister Dead man. So sorry for the wait." he spoke in an overconfident tone of voice.<br/>"I'll deduct it, from your tip later." the unliving cadaver spoke, clearly bored with teh whole ordeal. The human, swiftly lost her cheer.<br/>"Oh, a deader with a mouth on 'im, eh?" Setting the cleavers onto the nearest table, then going about to the far corner, where a gnomish music box was set. A large, ungainly contraption with a flat disk on top and awkwardly shaped tuba shaped speaker.<br/>"Half a mouth, to be honest..." He spoke up, the next words, however, could not be heard by the man in charge, but rather the younger lass. "Set me loose, and I'll help you." The words flouting from within the shadow behind her ear... Darkspeech, an art known to few rogues, something more in the field of mysticism then trickery. "So where, is the old guy? Vyn~Something or other?" he spoke up again, louder. Oddly, his voice was always that bored, half threatening tone.<br/>"Him?! HA! Damn fool always rambled to himself! About damn time some intruders off'ed the wack!" Their 'host' retorted, grinning wickedly as he turned around, some sort of large, reverse pliers in hand. "How enough about that, lets see how much 'heart' you have le~" His statement cut short as the musical device began to cut short and repeat the same three notes. "Oh blasted~ be right back, ugly."<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>