Melisandre didn't think it would take much time, but even she was surprised by how quickly the twitchy little man appeared. "Call me Smith," he said in response to her question. Neither one of them believed in that particular spot of fiction, but the name would do for now.
He speculated that she might be a person interested in news about the previous owner of a fine pair of snakeskin boots. She, in return, speculated that if some other person might supply information on that topic, she'd be able to express her gratitude in a small way. She further speculated that said gratitude might expand in direct proportion to any the expansion of such information to include news of any companions, particularly those of a female nature.
"Smith," whose real name could actually have been Smith, shrugged, told all, pocketed her money, and told himself it was nothing that his old pal Archibald wouldn't have done, had the shoe - or snakeskin boot - been on the other foot.
|Your loyalties are clear when it comes to friends.|