The goblin looked up at the oozing burlap sack with the same casual look he would have given a sack of potatoes. Granted, behind that look was the abject horror at the sheer amount of coin he was going to have to count and document for himself, as well as how much of his vacation fund it was going to fill, the likes of which a simple sack of potatoes would have never succeeded in fulfilling. Pulling the thing off the counter, he held it open to peer inside, nodding slowly with approval. One severed head, human, male, long blonde hair, scraggly beard, and facial features to match. Just as the request had ordered.
Tossing it behind him he looked up at the true terror that filled the room. The decayed corpse, whose beady little yellow eyes had never ceased staring at him. Nor did they seem to blink. Instead they bored right into him. The creature they were attached too was easily his most undesired part of any particular contract. Not because her very body was as rich in decay as he was about to be in coin, but for the simple fact that her mouth still functioned.
She peered down at him, expectantly. The rest of her face, eyes aside, was hidden by a hood and mask combo, both black, which went with the rest of her dirty leather armor. With a short nod of approval, he bent over, reaching under the counter to produce a large sack of coins, from which he began counting. Each click on the counter rang out with a beautiful sound, of weighted metal falling upon weighted metal.
The fact that her gaze never lingered from him was a source of unending disturbance. How anything in the world, be it man or murloc, could look upon such a sum and not care to check it was beyond him. Halfway through the count he had to pause and look up at her, letting out a long sigh, "Is there something else you were needing?"
Her bony shoulders lifted in a shrug, beady eyes shooting elsewhere for a moment, as though she had been found out in some ruse. Eventually she looked to him again, just as he had started clicking through the coins again, meticulously counting every single one of them, "What. Uh. What do you do with. With all of this stuff."
He blinked, peering up at her. For a moment he considered the question. What it pertained to. Was it the head? No, of course not. She knew exactly what became of the head. It was turned in to whomever had set up the contract, and he was paid in kind. Perhaps she meant the knick-knacks that lined the shelves of his shop, each of them covered in layers of dust. But that she knew the answer to as well. They were there in case tourists came in. To distract anyone who might not know that the place's main business was in matters of death. Which meant she had to be speaking of the coin itself.
Exchanging his focus from her to the coins and back again, he frowned, "Whaddya mean what do I do with it? I shove it in a vault and save it. Or I spend it. The stuff I get from this job is gonna be goin' ta my vacation fund, for instance. Got a pal who says he can get me tickets to Gallywix's palace on the cheap."
Nodding her head slowly, she shrugged again, "Oh. Yeah. I guess. Guess that makes sense." Each of the various fragments of her sentences came with its own sort of stilted delivery. Not an each of her speaking was consistent. At points she repeated herself, at others the sentence just seemed to pause. Sometimes a new idea would begin entirely.
"Well what the hell do you do with it then?" he said, suddenly crossing his arms, feigning offense. Not so low was he as to allow himself to potentially be insulted by a walking corpse. Granted, he had been insulted by worse than a walking corpse, but at the very least that individual he could and had divorced.
Once again her shoulders creaked up into a shrug, "I don't know. Stuff. Repairs. Travel. Stuff like that." A single finger came up to awkwardly dig into the counter, "Not. Not much else to. To really spend it on."
His arms were flung up into the air at the sound of that. Never in his life had he heard such nonsense, and in that moment he believed he would never hear anything sillier. Tapping the coins on the counter, he shook his head, "This stuff is for everything. Literally everything on this freakin' planet. And a couple of other planets. Or completely different realms of existence. And you're gonna tell me that you can't find anything to spend it on. If that's the case, what the hell am I even givin' it to you if it's just sittin' somewhere and gatherin' dust?"
He neglected to let loose the fact that he himself was sitting on a fair sum. Granted, it was stored away as a just in case. And as a means to brag to his relatives, as well as an opportunity to laugh in their faces when they requested money from him, but that was beside the point.
"I. I use it," she said, voice croaking the entire time. "Just. Don't have. A lot to. You. You know. Use it on."
Bringing his face into his palms, he turned around, and hopped down from his pile of stools. Wandering into the back room, he retrieved yet another one and added it to the pile. Once he was certain that the now towering structure was enough to hold him, he clambered up it, and tossed himself onto the counter itself. Staring the rotting woman right in the eye, he put his hands on his hips, "The hell's wrong."
Her eyes shot around for a moment, trying to focus on anything in the shop. She wouldn't find anything to focus on. He knew that, because she never did. And loathe as he was to have to have some sort of heartfelt conversation, it was best to get this out now. There was no way he could sell her services in good conscious knowing that something might be bothering her on the job. In bad conscious, certainly, but to sell something in bad conscious meant running the high risk that the entire deal would fall through in the chance she screwed something up because of it. Which would have meant a nasty relocation and change of identity, a process he wasn't going to go through yet again.
"It's. It's nothing Buzz. Just. Just asking is all. Nothing's wrong."
The goblin brought a hand to his face, pulling his eyelids down for a moment out of frustration. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself, "Except there obviously is, 'cause you're giving me a funnier look than normal, so if you don't mind, let's just get it out now and be done with it."
When she shrugged again, he swore that the next time he did it he was going to slap her upside the head. Not that he would. But he certainly would fantasize about doing so. "I just. Uh. I've been thinking about stuff. Some stuff. And I don't. I guess. Don't really know why to keep doing. This."
His stomach churned at those words. The matter was worse than he thought. Not only was she having some strange thoughts in regards to money, she was thinking things that put his entire business in jeopardy. A vision of the long and arduous interview process that would be required to fill her position passed through his mind, and he shuddered.
Steadying himself, he sighed, "Ya do the work, ya get paid. I don't see where the confusion is here Saney. It's simple stuff. The hell's the problem with it now."
She turned her back to him, and inched away from him along the counter. For a minute he thought she was trying to simply scoot away from the conversation, but instead she just invited herself up onto the counter. With a little push she scooted herself into a sitting position on the counter and stared out the shop's front window.
"I just. Don't. Don't see why. I guess. Not. Not much reason to. It's," she paused again, twisting herself to look at where he tossed the burlap sack. "Doesn't mean much."
Buzz's eyebrows knitted together, "What, 'cause of him? It means something to the buyer. Means we get paid. And gettin' paid's gotta feel nice, right?"
"Sometimes. I guess." Her feet began to idly swing. "But. There'll. There'll be other buyers. And there'll be other guys. So. So I guess who cares."
"Is that what this is about?" he said through gritted teeth, trying not to raise his voice so much that it would wake his neighbors, "You're gettin' bored?" She shrugged again and he imagined plunging one of her daggers right between her eyes. Letting out yet another sigh, he allowed himself to resort to one of the worst alternatives he could think of. "Well okay, maybe you need a break or something. Take a vacation for a little while. Have some fun. Be just fine after I'm sure." A chill ran down his spine at just the offer of allowing vacation time, but now was not a time to make even the smallest error.
She shook her head, looking down at him, "And. And do. What am I supposed to do." His mouth dropped open at the question. Were someone to walk into the shop at that moment he was certain they could have heard his brain sizzling with how hard it was working to come up with a solution. "I just don't," she croaked, giving him more time to think, "Don't get what I'm supposed to do with. With a lot of this. Time."
His fingers curled as he imagined wrapping them around her throat. Though, now that he thought about it that would have achieved absolutely nothing. "Go to the beach," he hissed, "Book a nice night at an inn. Whatever."
"Can't. Can't really. Go to a beach," she said, letting out a short cough, "People. People don't like. Corpses. And water. Don't." She paused for a moment, staring at her feet, "Don't want to go to one that's. Just me. Either. Or an inn. Boring. Nothing. Nothing for me to. To do."
Hopping off the counter, he removed the top stool in his stack. Climbing back up he returned to counting coins. Anything to calm himself. This was a job for a therapist, not a broker. Trying to get back into his count, he only idly glanced up at her, "Ask some friends to go with you or something." Her silence at that forced him to stop once more and look at her, "You do have friends right?"
She stared down at him, "Do. Uh. I mean. You. I guess. If you count."
It was insensitive, and immediately he wished he hadn't said it. But it was too late to undo, and now the word hung in the air. So long did it hang there that he wondered if the conversation had ended full stop, but eventually she piped up again.
"I just. All the forsaken I run into are all. Too. Too into the. All the forsaken stuff. Tried hanging. Just. Just being around Silvermoon and. It's full of elves and they don't really. Really like corpses that much. So."
Quickly finishing his counting, before he could be distracted again, he inched the coins into a brown pouch, and offered it to her. She hopped off of the counter and stared at it, not reaching to take it from him.
"Let me just give you some advice," he said, holding the pouch out again, "Just take this, and find somethin' you wanna buy. Hell. Buy ya some friends. Or find somethin' you wanna save for, and save for it. Just use your imagination. If you want it, you can probably buy it. Focus on stuff like that, and honestly you don't have any time to think about all of this stuff."
Her head tilted at that, "You. You mean. I can. Can think of a lot of stuff I would want that. That I probably can't. Can't buy."
"Find the right person and set the right price, and I'd beg to differ," he said blandly, once again shoving the thing in her direction.
She rubbed the back of her neck, "I don't. I mean. Yeah. Okay."
Taking the pouch, she let it sit in her hands. He stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to leave. Eventually she began inching her way to the door, just as he hoped she would. The entire process was arduously long, for some reason. At points she stopped completely to stare back at him, before looking down at the sack of coins. Even after she had made it out the door and was standing in the street she paused, staring up at the shop's sign as though she might be lost. Just when he thought she might stand there forever, she tucked the pouch of gold away, and wandered off down the road.