Post by alistair on Jul 20, 2012 14:25:33 GMT -8
tuesday, december 26th | approximately 8:00 p.m.The advice “keep calm” was not working well for him. In fact, the opposite was happening. He didn’t want to completely lose his cool, but who did this fool think he was? Alistair was supplying him with a means of making money, he wasn’t there to be ripped off like every shopper who wandered in. Without him, his supply would be small. The man had already confirmed that the dark objects were good enough for purchase. Yet, he couldn’t give the hunter the satisfaction of earning nearly enough for the effort.
“Are you bloody joking, Wilbur? It’s worth at least three times that!”
His grip on his anger slipped as he slammed a fist onto the counter, causing the displays underneath it to shake. His other hand was on the edge of the wood, his eyes dark as he practically shouted at the owner of the shop. The man in question, Wilbur, was trying to defend himself with some gibberish about how it was becoming more common to find cursed jewelry and books. The other man was stumbling over his words despite his firm tone. Alistair huffed after a moment, spinning on his heel and cutting him off. His tone was icy and he took advantage of the turn to slip his wand from his sleeve. “If you aren’t going to pay close to what it is worth, I mine as well take my business elsewhere. You obviously have become too big for your britches, Ethan Wilbur.”
By the time he turned back around, bag in his other hand to gather his treasure, his eyes flickered over the pile on the counter. Two rings were missing. He dropped the bag and stepped forward instantly, his wand pointed between the man’s eyes. His other hand planted firmly against the edge of the counter and he leaned forward. The blond man’s voice dropped as he hissed. “If you do not return my valuables to me, I will blow your business to bits.”
The other man was obvious worried, but he was pretending as if he wasn’t. He raised his hands in an almost innocent gesture, but his eyes were darting about. “Lawless, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He paused as Alistair turned his wand, his eyes never leaving him. “Besides, it isn’t stealing when someone else stole it first.” That was the wrong answer and the younger man flicked his wrist, a vase on one of the tables exploding in a puff of purple flame. There was a faint screaming as the ghost trapped inside escaped, and Wilber winced. “Alright, alright! Stop! Here, have your demonic trinkets!” He quickly removed the rings from his own bag with a pair of tweezers, instantly developing rust when they came in contact with the bewitched gems.
“Now, Wilbur, you’re going to pay me what I deserve, or again – you won’t have a shop to sell anything in. And you aren’t going to defy me again, and then I’ll walk out my door and leave you be.” A scowl tugged at his lips as he straightened up. The man didn’t need any proof, Alistair had already shown that he would do it. The coins were upon the counter within seconds. The hunter scooped the money up, counting it, before turning and leaving. He didn’t look back, only pausing to scoop down and pick up his dragon skin bag. He jumped down the couple of steps and to the sidewalk below, the coins jingling in his pockets, wand still out. He hadn’t sold all of the jewelry, simply most. Competition had to be fueled somehow. He would sell the other goods to other shops.
He didn’t realize one of the rings dropped to the ground.