"Little bastard," the old man cursed under his breath, his weathered face twisting with irritation as he snatched the coins from Ashok's hand and passed over the wooden case to him. Unconcerned, Ashok opened the case and retrieved the spectacles inside. With a swift motion, he slipped them into his inventory, the action smooth and efficient.
Without a second thought, he tossed the case up into the air—casually, almost carelessly—as if it were garbage. It tumbled through the air and landed back among the old man's cluttered collection with a loud clink.
"Keep that," Ashok said nonchalantly, slapping the old man on the shoulder as if they were on the best terms. The gesture, however, was anything but warm.
