(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

half-interested. When he looked up his eyes seemed to be scanning the
crowd with a practiced eye, and his robes were neat and well-trimmed
azure. Despite his clean-cut appearance he was slightly plump around the
middle, and his demeanor was... oily somehow, as if his personality exuded
grease. I needed to wash my hands.
He gave me a slick smile and a a barely perceptible nod. "I am Byron Pikit,
moneylender. May I help you?"
"Moneylender?"
He nodded again. "Yes, I cater to the needs of merchants. Want to start a
business? Keep one afloat that's down on its luck? Or perhaps expand a
business? In either case, you come to me for the funds." He looked me up
and down. "I doubt that you are a merchant, sir, so what can I do for you?"
"I'm a merchant," I lied.
He smiled and looked away for a moment. "A merchant of death, maybe,
but not the kind I do business with." He frowned. "If you insist on
monopolizing my time, please come to the point of this visit."
Out of the conrer of my eye, I could see Annah sneaking behind the
moneylender. I needed to keep him talking, "Can you tell me about your
business?"
He frowned and shook his head. "No, I see no reason to..." He looked me up
and down. "You are obviously not someone I conduct business with. I think
you should leave."
"Wait, I have some questions..."
He sighed just as Annah began rifling through his pockets. "Very well, make
it quick."
"I want to talk to you about Trist."
"Ah, Trist..." He frowned and looked away. After a moment he looked at me
and raised his eyebrows. "What about her?"
"I'm trying to find a missing document for her."
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