The troll's processor whirs again as he tries to remember whether or not he has a girl in his employ who satisfies Tzahala's parameters; but after a moment, he nods.<br/><br/>"I-I-I" Another shake of his head. "I don't have a girl like that, but I know where I c-can find one. I'll pay her expenses, and we'll escort her up from Key West. You do the job tonight, and we'll have her waiting for you when you get in. And as to the price..."<br/><br/>The troll reaches into a pocket and pulls out cred-stick, which he holds out to Tzahala.<br/><br/>"10,000; half now, half later." The troll's big mouth splits into a crooked, manic grin. "Or a favor from Dago, at your dis-ah... Dis..."<br/><br/>Tzahala can actually hear the processor in the orc's head lock up for a moment, and a sense of genuine (if a bit drug-fueled) panic rises up in the big man's eyes; but underneath the jitters and the corrupted augments, the man is still a high ranking Fist, and he picks up as best he can.<br/><br/>"At the time of your choosing. Your call."