[Ten years ago, he might have done the guy a favor. Sliced him from stomach to chest, torn through his throat. That was what he had been made for after all. But those days were gone. Still fresh, but gone nonetheless.]

[So when Corvo grabbed hold of his collar, Greed leaned in closer. Those jaws of his near an ear and the stink was worse up close. The pale underbelly of death and it smelled sour. Like milk left out in the hot-summer sun. But the Sin made no protest nor did he turn away. Instead, he hunched his shoulders up and pulled the other onto his feet. As it were nothing; as if the added weight hadn't bothered him in the slightest.]

They usually do, friend. That's what happens when you end up on the wrong side of a deal. [Whispering, his voice was a hiss. A pipeline of acrid smoke and liquor. The sand beneath them shifted as Greed moved and positioned the other.] Tsk - seems we're gunna have to do this the hard way.

[The hard way entailed a little foot-work on his part. Keeping Corvo steady as he shoved himself underneath the other. Crouching a bit until he felt sea-soaked clothes at his back; around his neck and through his hair. A hand trailed behind him, shoving the man's thighs apart none-too-gently.] C'mon - don't tell me you're done yet.

[A jump had Greed pulling the other onto his back. Akin to someone lifting a sack over their shoulder and he twined the man's arms around his throat. Prying fingers under his thighs and he coaxed them over the juts of his hips.]