[Maurice drinks, and he waits. For an answer, for a suggestion, for a reaction of any sort. And all the while, he's eerily still; like a viper tasting the air, searching for a flicker of something (anything) to pass on by. Because it is true, isn't it? The age-old phrase about devils and how it's always better to go with the one that's familiar.]

[Greed's eyebrows drift up his forehead, silent yet focused all the same. He plucks his claw off the glass, making it shiver out one, last, finalizing note. Shrrr.] Ha - ! Now see, that wasn't so hard, was it? [The Sin's mouth knowingly shrinks and as he plucks up the glass, he shuffles it underneath the lip of the bar. A task to take handle later, no doubt.] But that's interesting. What makes you think you aren't respected, Maurice? From everything you've told me, you sound like a pretty interesting guy. You haven't been running into any trouble here, have you? Because if you are - [He swipes his tongue behind the cuts of his teeth.] - well, you can just tell them they can come talk to me, hmn?

[Tilting his head, he gives off a glimpse of his throat and all the jewels and gems strung about it catch like pennies in the limelight.] Ah, but before we get to that, suppose I owe you one in return, don't I? [He taps the top of the bar with his nail, leaving behind a fine prick in the wood.]

So, go ahead. You get one ask. Then, we can get to this respect of yours.