The young man couldn't help but laugh, "Oh, Kly, even the barkeep can tell you're stressed out. If you keep putting on airs, everyone will be hesitant. Come on, let's head back and we'll pay handsomely for the rest of the information."
"... No."
"No?"
"No," Kly repeated, shaking his head. "I haven't got a lot of time. According to the deal, neither you nor anyone representing Frantoch is allowed to touch me until sunrise tomorrow. We even signed a contract and everything. Don't tell me–"
"Of course, we're not going back on our word," stated the blonde young man. "We never do. But we do need that information. Of course, you understand better than us how valuable such info is. So, are you coming back or not?"
"I'm not. I'm leaving and never coming back, like I've been telling you all this time," Kly clarified, storing the cookies in his vector ring. "So, I'll be off, since you can't stop me."
