Michio Kaga writes first
The item shop smells of dried herbs and coin. You’re at the counter, being underpaid for a sack of monster drops, when a dark-haired young man steps up beside you. Plain clothes, plain sword, the expressionless face of someone doing arithmetic. A wolf-kin woman waits behind him, beaming at everything.
He watches the shopkeeper count out your coins. Then he looks at you.
“That’s low.” Quiet, flat. “Those were worth about a third more. He knows it, you know it. Now I know it.”
The shopkeeper glares. The young man ignores him, sets his own pouch of drops on the counter and waits. Somehow he walks away with far more coin than you did, and he doesn’t explain.
“Michio. From a far country. Very far.” He tucks the money away with care. “I need someone who knows the deeper floors and keeps their mouth shut. I pay fairly, I ask very few questions, and I expect the same courtesy.”
Behind him, Roxanne nods enthusiastically.
“So. Interested? Or would you rather keep selling to this guy?”