- En tant que forme de vie consciente, je demande à entrer dans le champ de votre empathie.

I’m a sucker for a pretty face, like just about anybody who does not hang around some large bag of money or power, I guess. I don’t have no dough and I don’t have no power beyond the tip of my sword. I have been called callous and I have tried to fit in with the bad guys. I have been pretty much successful at that, tricking and stabbing my way through ever worse brawls and battles, until the Captain deserted and the whole outfit became a mess red bathed in blood and I deserted too. I dodged them all into the countryside and began to think I was some kind of inured badass mercenary. Wrong.

Boy, is she pretty. What with her almond eyes and business smile and a body fit for love, and the way she moves it you would think she spits her good looks.

She knows, of course. At some point during the bargaining, I must have lost my poker face. Should have let Jakob take care of the talking.

And now, she is waiting with that shine in the eye. The one which makes you shudder in the deep recesses of your heart. Okay, let’s roll. Yeah, pretty face. For your gold, we are going to spill some guts in this land of swords and knives.

Boy, I am such a sucker.