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

patrons might've enjoyed being horsewhipped by a tiefling, but I knew I
could dish out as much crap as she could throw.
"What did you have in mind, you sodding jawbox? Go ahead; give me a
reason to say 'no' to you."
"The Lady Grace said I was to talk to each of her ten students. Though
apparently she needs to raise her standards."
The tiefling rolled her eyes. "And what makes you think I care? Why don't
you lick my backside?"
"My tongue's not wide enough... and I don't like hair in my mouth."
"Well, you seem to like the taste of offal in your mouth, you dung-breathed
cretin."
"Only because it's like kissing you, you mangy stink-pot," I grinned. Annah
hid a chuckle behind her wrist.
"Kiss me?" She made a retching sound. "I'd rather kiss a bloody mass of
phlegm than lay my lips on you. No thanks!"
"Don't thank me... thank the Powers someone actually wants to kiss you."
Kimasxi looked at a loss for something to say. For an instant, a smile
threatened to crack the grimacing mask of her face - then she became more
of a basilisk than ever. "All right, what do you want of me?"
"What do you usually do for patrons?"
"I'm a practitioner of abuse."
"What's that mean?"
"I'll show you." Her hand lashed out to slap my face, but I managed to barely
dodge the blow. Kimasxi pouted visibly, then scowled. "Oh, well."
"Say..." I said looking sideways at Morte, "Can you teach my skull friend here
to be more abusive?"
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