[color=fff200]"H-o-o-o-old up, good man!"[/color] King rised both his voice and his first right hand, the index finger pointing firmly and surely into the skies, or rather into the ceiling like an ancient yellowish obelisk. "[color=fff200]You want me to give up all my hard-earned fifty dollars only so that i'd brawl with you only to possibly - note that i very much accept the possibility of being defeated - win another fifty in addition?"[/color]
The chinaman cackled in a very strange and specific way, something between Skeletor and Woody Woodpecker in terms of tone and sound's frequency. 
[color=fff200]"Das' ain't 'ow roight'n'propa business is made, mate!"[/color] He spoke, wildly gesturing with a cigar, putting on a very nice impression of a british bandit. [color=fff200]"I won't fight'cha for anything less than quadruple, meaning two hundred US dollars in any available currency for those mathematically challenged among us if there are any. You got that much? More importantly, you ready to part with that much?[/color]" The young enterpreneur looked Pablo in the eye, squinting slyly. [color=fff200]"If anyone's interested in betting on this here showdown we are possibly going to have then we'll also have to appoint a bookie!"[/color]