Krysaos fully believed in Tycon's ability to turn a shite situation into something survivable.
He believed in that man more than he believed in gods.
"Well... I appreciate your high opinion of me," Tycon said, inclining his head.
Yes! That was it! Tycon was *definitely* holding out on him.
"So? Tell me what'cha got LT!"
"I... really don't know what you're expecting, Krysaos."
Krysaos threw his hands up in frustration, "F*ck, guy. Quit it with this suspenseful shite! I wanna live!"
"An admirable goal," Tycon nodded-- "especially considering the circumstances."
Krysaos held out one hand, the other hand stroking his stubbled chin.
"Let me guess-- the mcguffin you're hiding is in your spatial ring?"
Tycon - “Should we fail, the worst a mortal can suffer is death.”
Krysaos - “Ah. Yeah. It be how it be.”
Krysaos - “Wait, what? What does that mean? What happens when *I* die?!?”