The shop fell into an awkward hush once Bobby hurried out with his bottle of goblin blood. The only sounds were the lazy creak of floorboards and the faint clink of coins as Levy better known to the neighborhood as Joy slid Bobby's payment into the counter.
He cleared his throat and glanced at the dark-robed figure browsing the shelves. "So… anything you need, boss?"
Razeal shook his head. "Not really. Just killing time until dinner's ready."
Levy offered a polite nod, then busied himself rearranging an untidy stack of potion flasks. For a moment neither spoke. Finally, as if the question had been nagging him for hours, Levy glanced back at the masked guest.
"You know," he said, keeping his tone casual, "you could take off that robe and mask. I really don't care what your identity is. I'm not a great person, but I've got no reason to be hostile toward you right now and even if I did, it's not like I could do anything about it. You're paying me. I'll still do my job regardless."
