Lucky had entered the shop first, before all the rest. He had managed to get a straight flight there, letting him arrive at the store within hours of receiving the note and meeting the two birds. Stepping in, he quickly dismissed the entire store as worthless, with only plastic novelties lying around. Nothing worth stealing, except maybe stuff with sentimental value. Though how sentimental you could be about something made in China was a mystery to Lucky.

When the others started flooding in, Lucky took his time staring at all of them. There was the Native American, a little bit taller than himself, looking very wild as compared to most of the others there. There was also the blonde fellow, also a bit taller than himself, who seemed full of silly things like honor and a sense of duty. There was the hardened man, who seemed just as wild as the first woman, but also, a strong sense of control and power over it. He didn't like the wild for the wild, but as an opportunity to show how good you were. There was the other woman, the skin colour and facial structure resembling those from India. She seemed pretty ready. A few others who Lucky hadn't had time for, since the old woman started talking.

He watched as the trade slowly made it's way around, and checked his own bag. The coins, for an item. Lucky looked at the crone again, who was looking through the bags herself. She wasn't blind, except in the traditional sense. She could see. But how much? Lucky decided to roll the dice, and plucked out one of the coins from his bag.

When the witch came around, she inspected the bag, and before he could react, had stabbed Lucky through each hand. He watched as the gold tumbled to the floor, and the crone walked away. He slowly grabbed the bag, and put the pierced gold coin back in it. Maybe I can see if I can sell this elsewhere, he thought.

As the witch removed the bind, the hardened man talked to the witch, and they conversed for a little, switching into a new language halfway through, and the man walked off to stare out the window. The blonde fellow was asking about whether they were all of the fighting force, and the Native American was asking what had happened to the Russian.

Lucky himself, he pocketed the gold, and stood, waiting. Let the others get their questions done first. Lucky wanted some privacy for his questions. Serving the Liesmith, and yet this Liesmith was not his father. He had done some reading on Norse mythology, and knew the liesmith was Loki. But he wasn't serving his own father? What was going on there? He grabbed a shirt off a nearby stand, and ripped some of it into strips, binding up his hands. It hurt like hell, for sure, but he might as well stop the blood flow as soon as possible.