"Oh yer!" He said. A nervous tone had crept itself in his tone while his hand ran through his larded hair. The man was busy with shaving his precious (™) sideburns when his contracter had approached him. With the cream still in the burns, he turned to look at Miguel. "Oi 'adent expected yer." Obvious. "Oi get yer, yer amulet," Roswell mused. Making a dismissive gesture with his hand. Splashing shaving cream everywhere. "Yer 'ired de roi thief. Quick fingers and such!" He wrinkled his nose as soon as he detected some sarcasm in the other's voice. "It is interestin' information. 'Ave yer read: Fisherman and Merman: a love between two worlds?" He asked. Placing his hand on his side. He huffed. "All the author's words are pure gold," he defended his Merman romance book writing hero. He blinked. Then his gaze dropped at the knife, lighter then his kram. Made to stab people, not wallets.

He swallowed uneased. "Kill?" The old crook asked. The Void knows he can not even kill the rats that ran rampant in his apartment. "A..sure but ," he paused. Rubbed his indexfinger on his thumb. Meaning: duiten, money, cash you get it. "It cost extra."