“Of course we’re hungry,” Shyan says.
“We’re always hungry,” adds Fassn, currently biting his nails and swallowing the keratinous material.
The drummer beats the scarred wooden table with his fingers. The flutist shoots him a glance, then returns her attention to the gang. “Tell us about where you got the goods.”
“Is this relevant?” Cang asks with a sneer. “The weight is true, there is no plating whatsoever. This item is one hundred percent dense gold. Surely its provenance cannot be a factor.”
“It’s from a princess,” adds Fassn. “It’s real pretty but we’re hungry.” A grumble from his stomach washes over the table.
“A princess, yes,” says the flutist. “But which one?”