Bab 18: Chapter 18: Duel, Part 4

Another guard, dressed in mismatched armor probably stolen from at least six places, leered as he saw Rath. "Hello, pretty boy."

Rath snorted. "If you think calling me pretty is going to get you anything, it's no wonder you can't afford more than a farthing whore every second full moon."

The guard's leer turned into a scowl, and his pasty skin turned a splotchy red. "You fucking—"

"Enough!" Friar barked, his head poking out a door. "If you can't resist the taunts of a Fates-damned whore, why am I trusting you to guard anything? Shut your damned mouth and do your job. Rat, get your ass in here and give me my damned money."

Rath stepped by the guard, whose glare promised their conversation wasn't over. "That one isn't going to last long," he said as he stepped into the opulent, over-perfumed room that was Friar's office.