Quinn leaned forward. "Sir, that thing you mentioned earlier. What I'm running from. It's money trouble. I don't want you to think I'm looking for a handout, 'cause I'm not. I just... want to talk to somebody. Get it off my chest."

The orc fiddled with his teacup, keeping his fingers occupied. "I had an agreement with someone. Borrow money, pay it back later, that kind of thing. I knew I was getting ripped off when I agreed. I did, anyway, and I don't regret that for a second. But the other guy, he's not sticking to the terms, and I don't know what to do about it."

He sighed. "I don't mind getting beat. I mean, I do. I don't like the pain, and knowing what's coming scares the shit outta me. I'd skip it if I could. It's the unfairness I can't stand. We had a deal. Isn't that supposed to mean something?"

Mr. S's brow furrowed. "This deal of yours. What were the exact terms?"

"Two thousand lira, to be paid in two years' time." The orc leaned back in his seat, powerless. "It's been one. Year, that is."

"How were the terms of this deal to be enforced? Was a third party designated to act as your mediator?"

Dazed, and a little embarrassed, Quinn shook his head. "No. Gods, I didn't ask for one. Is that standard?" He threaded his hands through his hair. "I'm an idiot, aren't I?"

"Quinn, dear, don't say that," Mr. S chided. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen. Why?"

The elf scoffed. "You might as well be a babe. What were your parents thinking, allowing you to enter into a lop-sided, life-altering financial agreement like that?"

"It's not their fault," Quinn defended. "Dad's gone. Ma's alone. I'm all the family she's got, and she's sick, else I'd have never had to borrow in the first place."

Mr. S spread his arms helplessly. "It's difficult to admit, Quinn, but you've backed yourself into a corner. I could give you the lira, but from what you've told me, this man's behavior is suspicious enough that one has to wonder whether it's truly the money he's after."

A surge of bitter laughter escaped the orc. What had he been expecting? Some miraculous solution to appear at the last minute and save him? The appearance of a convenient detail he'd overlooked? It was useless. He was killing time, trying to distract himself from the inevitable conclusion.

The binding contract that'd been imposed on him allowed Terry to extract payment from Quinn in any way imaginable. The orc wasn't experienced with Solaris's black market, but he'd heard rumors about the things one could obtain if they were wealthy enough. Supposedly, there were organs.

He closed his eyes. "Thanks, Sir. I appreciate it. You've been kind, and you didn't have to be."

He was glad he'd talked to the elf even though the other man hadn't been able to help.

"It's been no trouble at all on my part, Quinn. I wish I could do more."

"Me, too."

The orc pushed in his chair. It was time to get going. He knew he wouldn't sleep tonight, but he wanted to see his mother again. Spend his remaining hours talking with her. If he'd been thinking straight, that's where he would have been this whole time.

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As he turned to leave, the elf remarked, "It's a shame. I suppose your fate now rests in the hands of whoever gave you that loan. This individual must be unscrupulous."

"Terry? Yeah, that fits." The orc shoved his hands down his pockets. "Nothing about that guy makes sense. I can't figure him out."

"Terry?" Mr. S's eyebrows rose. "No, but it can't be a coincidence," he muttered as an aside. He waved for Quinn to stop. "Please do wait, Quinn. Before you go, I've another question for you. It's important. This 'Terry' of yours. His last name wouldn't happen to be Faulker, would it?"

Quinn froze. "Huh? Yeah, it is. Why? Do you know him?"

Mr. S covered his mouth. "Stars! How dreadful! I suspected as much. To think this man has been frequenting my store. He uses an inordinate amount of my healing potions." His voice dripped with consternation. "A loan shark. That trash!"

Visibly upset, the elf trembled in his wheelchair. Quinn rushed forward to help. He grabbed the elf's hand. "Are you okay? Here, let me get your assistant."

The tremors subsided. "Thank you for the concern, Quinn. I'm fine. You shouldn't have had to see that." The elf donned a stoic smile and calmed himself. "It occurs that I have contributed greatly to your predicament. Justice cannot abide it! I must see this through to the end."

Mr. S seized Quinn's wrist with more strength than the orc had thought the man possessed. "Yours is a pure and honorable soul, Quinn, of more rarity than you could possibly imagine. Allow me to intercede in this matter between you and Terry, if you think the word of a high elf wields any power in this city. It would mean so very much to me."

Quinn was stunned. Not at the revelation that Mr. S was a high elf; that was silly. He'd known that from the beginning. No, he was stunned that Mr. S would insist on helping a stranger in such a risky situation. It was unbelievable.

"Y-You mean it? You'd go that far? For me?"

"Oh, yes." Mr. S relaxed. A radiant smile suffused his lips, and Quinn felt himself slipping into another trance. "Let us proceed in the following fashion. Relius is going to give you my business card. You will keep it on your person, and tomorrow, you will present it to Terry when he visits. You will let Terry know that I am protecting you from his criminal racket, and you will return to this store hale and unharmed."

Out of nowhere, the assistant appeared, brandishing a piece of paper. It had Serenity’s distinct logo on it with the edges embossed in gold leaf. The only other piece of information on it was the name Sebastian Hale.

"Wow, yeah! I mean, yes! Thank you! That's amazing!"

The young orc’s eyes reddened. He took the business card in both hands as though it was the most precious thing he’d ever held. Mr. S attentively regarded him.

"Promise you’ll do as we’ve discussed?" the elf persisted.

"I promise!"

"Excellent. Stay true to your promise, dear. Honor demands no less."

* * * *

Quinn departed the store with a spring in his step, a load off his shoulders, and a heart freed from worry. Serenity's proprietor saw him out with a friendly wave. The door closed, and the proprietor's smile changed targets.

"Relius," Ti Am'an beckoned. “Lock the door. Business hours are over, and a review of workplace expectations is in order.”

The assassin bolted the door. He returned to his liege and prostrated, emitting high-pitched, canine whines. A hand reached pleadingly towards Ti Am’an’s ankles.

“Revolting mutt. Don’t touch me. Your performance has been less than satisfactory. Self-reflection clearly isn't effective, so we’ll try something different.” The air distorted next to the assassin's head, and a barbed flail appeared. “Memorize this lesson, starting now.”

As the assassin carried out his penance, Ti Am'an expounded, "Ours is a meticulous line of work. Sincerity lies at the heart of everything we do. Carelessness is not permitted, nor failure tolerated. One must strive for perfection."

Blood spattered on the Infernal prince's garment. The red liquid spread through the white material, leaving behind a stain.

"Tch. I'm in a splendid mood, so I'll forgive your sloppiness. Enthusiasm ought to be encouraged."

The air distorted again, and a hand fan appeared. Ti Am'an leisurely refreshed himself. Relius's wretched whines morphed into howls of agony. Noise isolation runes activated along the store's ceiling.

"Don't be dramatic," Ti Am'an scolded. Then he froze. An inscrutable mixture of emotions flitted across his brow. Eventually, he regained his composure. "Took them long enough. The ugly bitch is out of her mind, but at least she's dependable."

He chuckled fondly. "Don't disappoint me."