Alaedra watches the young human with some interest, only thinly disguised, wondering how such creatures live such short lives yet so many of them seem to wind up in the lower planes so quickly. At least Alaedra has an excuse, being an 'evil' drow.<br/><br/>"Why don't we make it five flasks of that alchemical silvering agent and 150 platinum? Unless you can think of anything else to offer me here that might make up some of the difference?"<br/><br/>Alaedra is still keeping one eye on the imp as well, as it doesn't seem concerned that she might not be interested in delivering the letter the imp just gave her.