"I... I'm here to pay you. I'm really grateful you saved my mother, and I know the price must be steep, so whatever you want, you can take it. Even, even if it's..."
"Hold on, hold on. Stop right there.
First, let me stress that I'm a businessman, not some sleazy boss or landlord from a porn flick with a cast of two or three.
So could you stop talking to me in that weird tone? You're making me sound like the world's biggest pervert."
Zuo Ci stared speechlessly at the fidgeting Hal Jordan. He understood the man's anxiety, but no matter how fucking anxious he was, he couldn't talk like that.
You're making yourself sound like some poor soul driven to desperation, and me like a sick pervert lusting after your ass.
"Second, I'm a fucking legitimate businessman, and the payment I ask for is perfectly normal! Stop acting like I'm about to rip out your soul and twist it into a pretzel, okay?"
That made Zuo Ci even more speechless. Did he really look like a villain? Why did Hal keep acting like Zuo Ci was about to kill him?
At most, I'd make you wish you were dead, okay?
"Uh... well... sorry..."
After that dressing-down from Zuo Ci, Hal scratched his head awkwardly. Only then did he remember that Zuo Ci had apparently already said he didn't want souls or anything like that.
Still, he couldn't really be blamed for getting the wrong idea. In the stories he'd read, spells that brought people back from the dead always demanded an enormous price. Besides, after spending so many years in the military, he'd developed a pretty good understanding of humanity's dark side, so his mind had instinctively gone there.
"Forget it. I'll spell it out. The price for