16 Rue Coreas.
Twirling the brim of his golden straw hat, Lumian stopped just outside the office door and met Fidel Guerra's gaze across the desk. Lumian's grin was anything but friendly.
"Made a decision, have you? Faster than I expected."
Fidel Guerra, with his partially Feynapotterian features, turned to Roddy and let out a soft sigh.
"Didn't expect my attendant to be the ringleader of a scam syndicate."
"Maybe the paychecks he receives from you don't quite match the lifestyle he sees on a daily basis," Lumian shot back habitually.
Fidel ignored the jab. He studied Lumian, eyes narrowed.
"So that bar act was all for show? To dupe fools like him?"
"Let's say I'm grateful for their thousand verl d'or donation. Looks like Port Farim's got a bright future for con artists." No shame in his banditry, not a flicker.
Roddy felt a swarm of regret gnaw at his insides.
