"Indisposed?" Right asked. "What the hell does 'indisposed' mean you foreign bitch?"

Left gave his brother an incredulous look. "Really? You're gonna ask that? He was indisposed last month when we came for payment. You want to barge in on him like that again?"

Right paled. "I'd forgotten that. I worked so hard not to remember that image."

Left nodded to Rikive. "If he's doing what I think he's doing, tell Parry he's not supposed to use light bulbs like that." Left lowered his end of the box and Right followed suit. "We'll leave this with you. de Lacy will want his cut from the wizard by sunrise." 

Left and Right both gave Rikive a last awkward look as they backed away. Right whimpered quietly as a horrified look came over his face.

Inside the box, the head of Rikive's attacker lay motionless, its mouth hanging open over a face painted black and blue from bruises. Rikive's blood had gone a long way toward healing the skin over the wound, but even gods couldn't regenerate bone and brain matter quickly. As a result, his face had an odd tilt to it, like an egg that had been smashed open on one side only to be covered with plastic wrap.

Parry struggled against the restraints of his seat, trying to get out so he could crawl to the basement door.

[i]I have to get downstairs! I have to get de Lacy's pint.[/i]

He froze, stopping his fidgeting, then looked at himself.

[i]Wait. I'm only 20 pounds, if that. I don't even have a pint of blood to give him.

I'm fucked.[/i]