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J’torha followed the pair of merchants to the building, tail still twitching in mostly false outrage - though that “desert kit” comment did help him keep up a good facade. Still, he held himself proudly, arms crossed as he followed into the building. 

Inside, the building held only a table in the centre of the floor and walls lined with shelves. The shelves were lined with books, and one such book was open on the table, full of figures that he took to be sales records. Lucky, that; the page was covered in some pretty big numbers, and it gave him an idea of just how much he could leverage out of the poor fools. 

As the door closed behind them, J’torha kept his back to it, allowing the merchants to settle where they may and regarding them both coldly, perching a hand on his hip and letting his tail swish behind him. He glared between the merchant and his dark-haired friend a moment before speaking, just to let a little tension settle over the room.  

[color=CB3011]“My payment, then?”[/color] he demanded, keeping up the charade a little longer. The brunet was still swallowing it, after all. He eyed Tilman. [color=CB3011]“[i]With[/i] interest. I think you owe me that much for my trouble.”[/color]