Clarissa giggles again.

"You might say that. What do you think, Francesc? A score of fleder? I'd say that's worth a couple of hundred mark at least, even given that they owed you to start with."

Her eyes twinkle with mischief as she prods the bull, and Francesc sighs again, clearly tired of her company.

"What's a couple of hundred to a man like you, hm? Help a girl out?" Ling asks Francesc, resting her hands on her hips. She is acting sweet and if you didn't know better, you could think that the small girl with her two thick braids really was a young village girl asking to buy a new dress.

Francesc's face remains twisted in a sour grimace while Clarissa speaks, but his familiar cruel smile quickly returns after he hears Ling's response.

"Is that what you really want, little Ling? Cold, hard cash? I'll tell you what - I'll give you three hundred mark right now and you walk away. No favour. Or you can take my gratitude and my appreciation of a difficult job well done and know that I do indeed, at a time of your choosing, owe you a favour."

Ling opens her mouth as if to answer, but then shuts it again. She is clearly tempted by the offer of immediate money over someone's word, but the sum isn't enough to tempt her into making an decision alone. "Oh you know just how to please a girl, my lord," Ling replies, continuing their banter, "but I'm not just any girl. I need more." Looking over her shoulder, she checks Nikolai's face with a strange expression. "What do you think?" She says, as if to him, but then turns back and looks at Alaris.

Alaris gazes past Ling at Clarissa Morgenstern. Something... familiar... about that face and that name and those markings... the paladin closes their eyes for a long moment and prays for their Divine Sense to open. When they open their eyes, Clarissa is limned in flickering red-orange and the stench of brimstone seems to waft over the warrior's face. Interesting...

"As much as I like the dependability of cold hard coin, Ling, I think having His Lordship in our debt might be the more valuable marker. We plan to make a home here, yes? Well, not right here in Temnitsa," Alaris grins as they see Astrid blanch a little at the thought. 

"I don't like the idea of leaving here empty handed after all that." Caio steps up after all, though it takes a moment to pull his eyes from Clarissa to Francesc. "How about a favor for later, and you answer some questions for us. Now. A man like you must have plenty of eyes and ears."

Nikolai shakes his head to Ling. "I'd rather take all payment right here, right now. He's already lied to us once. I don't trust men like him to keep his word. I also don't trust men like him to stay alive for long enough to keep his word. So I'll take my cut in coin. If you all want yours in a favors, that is your choice. I want payment and I want it now."

     "Having favors owed is nice, but if it mean not having to come down here again, I would prefer the coin as well," Astrid says keeping her voice low. "And I agree, it's better not to get into a relationship with someone whose lied in their first meeting. Not a good start."

Francesc smirks at Caio slightly shaking his head, clearly happy to once more be in control of the conversation.

"Life is full of choices, my infernal friends," he tells them with a Cheshire cat smile. "Make yours."

Caio responds decisively "The coin. And I'll forfeit my share of it for one question." His voice is frigid, and his black eyes avoid any looks from his companions.

"Very well!" Francesc declares with a clap of his hands, before beckoning Caio up closer to him.

"Pay them," he mentions aside to one of his aides. "Two hundred and fifty mark."

"Caio. Welcome. And dressed to boot! What is it you wish to know?"

Caio cuts to the chase through Francesc's antics. "I seek a group known as the 99 Hundred. They are an upstart gang of necromancers and occultists with ties all over Arden. Do you have any information that might be linked to this cult?"

Francesc arches an eyebrow at the unusual question.

"You seek what many would call Сказка and old wives' tales," he replies knowingly. "Such stories are most often heard on the road to Saramei, through the Eazim forest. Where the trees grows thickest and most dark, the villagers tell of necromancers and diabolists who comes to prey upon them in the dark."

"You know nothing of which I speak," he retorts briskly, but then adds with a sincere tone "But that information is very helpful. Thank you, Francesc." he steps back and then gives a long look at Clarissa, a bit unsure of what to say. "It was nice to meet you." he turns, finished with his business, and begins to walk away. "I'll be having a drink upstairs when you're all done."

"I'll forfeit my share as well. So answer me this....were you ever one of Degoutants spectators?  Did you ever watch me fight in that pit?

Shiva's voice is quiet, but carries an unmistakable edge

Ling nods at Nikolai and announces, rolling her eyes: "I'll take my money then, thank you. Pleasure doing business with you, I hope you'll think favourably of me in the future.. Since you got such a good deal this time." Pleased with her own joke, she grins and gives Francesc a wink. As she steps back, she pulls Shiva's arm and whispers: "Come on now, let's take the money and leave, Nik's right. We can't fight him on his own turf. There's some things you're better off not knowing. Come on."

Remaining planted, Shiva tilts her head towards Ling "I'm not looking for a fight. I just need to know."

The tense moment is broken by a peal of haughty laughter from Clarissa.

"The Degoutants' pit? Lovely old building. Such a shame what happened to it. You were a competitor?"

She asks with a sickly sweet smile. Francesc rests one elbow on an armrest of his chair and strokes his chin as he watches Shiva carefully.

"Competitor. That's a word for it."

Shiva's voice becomes softer in her response, but her eyes remain on Francesc.

"Shivala," Francesc finally interjects, "I grew up in Beaufort, although I would have thought that that much was obvious. I was twenty-one when Louis Degoutant died, and I wasn't even in Camwen the night the Pit burned down. Blood sports never really held my attention. Especially at that age." He gestures to the background of fornicating guests, as though that in and of itself is sufficient explanation.

"I visited the Pit once, as a teen accompanying my father. I don't recall who was fighting, but it wasn't to my taste."