[His eyes narrow into an indignant glare, because he actually has no idea what the word "pissant" means, but it doesn't sound like a compliment. If it weren't for the fact he was trying to negotiate here, he'd probably call Greed out on it--maybe. The guy's still intimidating, but as the older man goes on Killua's beginning to feel impatient.]

I already told you I'm willing to work for it. [Greed may not be brushing him off, but he's still talking to him like he's some naive child who's expecting the answers to just be handed to him. Killua's not here to play around, despite the casual entrance, and he makes that known through the tone of his voice and the iciness of his leer; no longer indignant or childish. It's truly a look that could kill a lesser man, and a look that far too many people saw before Killua did just that.]

So just name your price. I want to know everything you're willing to tell me about Demons, and I want to know the names of the people who made a deal with the fog god. Got it?