There is nothing like a good bad mood! Like, fuck the moment, and fuck you too! Ha!

Ovi spat out his whiskey.

"You want us to do what?!" he then yelled.

The three griffons were seated in the back of the town's bar slash inn slash breakfast joint, specifically in the tables section. The layout was simple. Bar on the left side of the room, tables on the right, clear space in the middle, and a few doors on the wall directly across from the entrance, behind both were staircases that led up to the few rooms on the second floor. A sign hung outside with the words "Musty's" burnt into it. They'd settled in there after a little pleading and the mention of extra money on Crux's part. The two "young'uns" were mercenaries. Extra caps were extra caps and caps paid for bullets and armor fixes. Making extra was usually the difference between being around for another month or two, so, they were inclined to at least listen to the offer. Ovidus was, rather obviously, surprised. Oriana was a little more composed, but she still thought the idea was ridiculous.

"What? Is it really too much to ask?" croaked Crux, tapping the table anxiously. His mood had gone from cranky to worried as he explained the situation, and he was doing a slipshod job of hiding his feelings.

"For that little? Of course it is!"

"Seven-fifty is hardly-"

The two would be at it for a while. Oriana cut in.

"Make it a thousand, or we're walking. We're already on a job. You're lucky this is worth considering," she put sharply, tracing a circle into the table with a talon.

Crux sputtered, pushing his rounded glasses back up his beak. "But-"

"Two thousand, five hundred," chirped Ovi, slightly calmer than before.

"You can't expect-" Crux began, trying to get a word in.

"Three th-" Oriana started. She didn't get much further before Crux slumped, banging a fisted claw on the table, rattling the three bottles.

"Alright! Two thousand, five hundred. That's on top of the usual sheriff pay, at any rate." Crux lifted his bottle to his beak, taking a brief swig of the bitter moonshine. He was the town's unofficial resource manager and trade specialist, but that didn't mean he had the caps for the more expensive alcohol.

Ovidus gulped down another swig after wiping the droplets of whiskey off his beak from his spit take. His plume ruffled as it went down. Spicy stuff, he thought.

"What exactly is the 'usual' pay for the sheriff gig? Feels like you skipped that bit," he said, giving Crux's owlish face a squint.

"Free room and board, food, and the discount. Discount's anywhere from twenty to fifteen percent off most common goods. Tends to get a little tighter when trade gets tense."

"Aaaaand from what you've so eloquently explained, things are about to do just that." Ovi pointed at Crux with a talon from the claw he was holding his whiskey with, the squint getting squintier. Crux looked indignant, his face tensing. He'd forgotten for a moment just how irritating Ovidus' voice could get sometimes.

"Alright, well, where exactly is the sheriff?" Oriana asked, leaning forward in her chair, carving another circle into the table next to the first. "Last we were here, he seemed pretty content with the job."

The old bird sighed, taking another swig of his moonshine. "Old Hatty's been dead close to six months now. Snagged by a radigator while crossing the bridge over the inlet. Harbormaster's still trying to figure out how it got through the grates and the netting. Not too long ago, someone new kind of just...settled in, started doing the sheriff's old jobs, helping the townsfolk, that sort of thing. Real quiet, that one. Wears some weird mask all the time. I've never met 'im personally, and he doesn't go around blurting his name. Most just call him 'Sheriff' and tilt their hat, or whatever they've got on their noggins." The twins looked at each other for a moment, before Ori spoke up again.

"And, where is this new sheriff now?"

"Oh! Goodness, right, yes. He ran off up north somewhere when the first mentions of the ghoul raids started. That wasn't too long ago, though I can't remember exactly when he stopped coming back from the marshes. He's often in and our of town, you see. Can't say for sure what's become of him."

"Lovely, lovely. Think we might run into him, sis?" asked Ovidus, rubbing the bridge of his beak. He wasn't going to complain if they had a little competent help at some point, but unknowns easily turned into liabilities. Most of the time. Sometimes.

"Maybe. Hopefully alive. Sounds like an...interesting individual. Though it always sucks hearing about interesting folk just to find a body, surrounded by a lot of other bodies."

"Ah, but those are the best! We hold little funerals after clearing the area. Sometimes we build a pyre, since the ground's usually got the consistency of shit."

"Oi! Shut it! You're not lying...but still. Have a little tact."

Crux pushed his glasses back up, moving to take another sip from his bottle, but stopping. There was still about half left, but he wasn't much of a drinker. He didn't want to slip back into old nervous habits. He pushed his bottle to the center of the table while the other two finished theirs off.

Author's Note

Optimal word count. That is all.