"Aye, Gukb here lived in a monestary. Thirteen years, see? Good people, treated me just fine... but I er... I set their barn on fire when I got into old Master Grangor's robes and found me some 'o them fire sticks. They booted poor Gukb out shortly afta'." the goblin replied, sighing slightly. "Couldn't help meself, see? They said I was born with natural mischief, 'n that I'd neva' fit in, despite their best efforts to ah, domesticate me. Was a shame. Miss it." 

Growing increasingly uncomfortable of bringing up his past, Gukb shifted in his seat, and also shifted the nature of their conversation. "I got's me a question for yer human; if yer were gonna slit me here throat, you'd done it by now. Which be meanin' you one'a the good'ns. Dyin' breed, yer type. Met many on the road, man and maiden, that screamed bloody murder at poor Gukb for so much as standin' within eye sight, like." His attention switched briefly to the changing shape of his head, as more hair fell from his scalp with each resonating snip of the barber's shears. "But yah, me point bein', why didn't ye kill me? Yer ain't dumb, I know me a dumb'n. Ya know I weren't 'ere for a hair cut... well, originally anyways."