The man stops at the door, his hand on the frame. For a long moment, he just stares at Kalila, at her glowing eyes, at the raised hand still ready to unleash more of that terrible magic.

Then he spits blood on the floor.

[b]"Fuck you,"[/b] he says, his voice rough with pain.

But he doesn't move to attack. He stays there, thinking, weighing her words. The silence stretches. His eyes narrow behind the mask, calculating something.

Finally, he looks at Gerta.

[b]"Thirty gold. Next month. Be ready."[/b]

Then he's gone, the door slamming behind him.

The moment he leaves, it's like everyone in the room exhales at once. The tension breaks. Mick lowers his knife, his hands shaking slightly. Gerta sways on her feet, catching herself on the table.

The glow fades from Kalila's eyes. The wind dies. The magic retreats back into her veins, and suddenly she's just herself again, standing there with a kitchen knife in her hand.

Gerta looks at her. Really looks at her. There's something in her expression now that wasn't there before. Wariness. Distrust. Her eyes flick to the bottle Kalila's still holding, to the knife, back to her face.

Before Gerta can say anything, Garrek laughs. It's a slightly hysterical sound, but genuine.

[b]"What the fuck!"[/b] He's grinning despite the blood on his neck. [b]"That was AMAZING! Did you see what she did? That magic, that... that BLAST thing!"[/b]

Gerta immediately shifts her attention to him, her expression changing from wary to concerned.

[b]"Let me see your neck,"[/b] she says firmly, moving to him. She tilts his head to examine the claw marks, her fingers gentle despite her rough tone. [b]"Damn fool boy, talking back like that. Could've gotten yourself killed."[/b]

[b]"But I didn't!"[/b] Garrek protests. [b]"Because Kalila..."[/b]

[b]"Hush. Hold still."[/b]

The room settles into an uneasy quiet, broken only by Gerta fussing over Garrek's wound.

[hr]
[b]What does Kalila do?[/b]