Lion Head Mesa Thárros

Jawahir was a spoiled creature. Arsenio had no taste for such things.

Still, the Greek man drew his head back and laughed a raucous noise. When he fixed his eyes on the slim little pleasure toy, he blinked slowly and tilted his head. The confusion on his features was genuine.

Jah-wah-heeer… we have only just talked, silly Fellahin. I have told others who I am closer to.

Then the mercenary tsked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. It was a chiding noise. Jawahir thought themselves to be clever, but they were just a dirty little sewer rat who had been groomed by a spoiled man. There was no pride, no honor, nothing worthy in such things. It was a shame, too. With all that deceptive talent, Jawahir might have been worth quite a bit in another land.

What would you like to know? I’m quite fond of them. He giggled, a rumbling noise.