Uziel
Everypony wants to rule the world
Rolling Hypothermia (4) 3 successes
As James crunched up and watched, he started feeling warmer, and his hypothermia slowly starts to subside. (+2 to further hypothermia rolls)
"You know that the rate's twenty percent, Kenny. We have this conversation every time! We fill up this tub, and twenty percent of it's free. You know what we do for you!"
"You screw us over, that's what you do! I won't have it! I've tolerated your hooliganism long enough. I won't go over ten percent this time! You'll pay me what Hyde pays me from now on!"
"You're not in a position to negotiate."
"Damnation I'm not! My grandson is one of yours!"
"I never touched your daughter."
"Doesn't matter. You or one of your men. You gave me another mouth to feed, and now you're going to pay a fair price."
The lead biker cussed and kicked one of his guys at random, who insisted it wasn't him.
"All right. Ten percent, this time, until I figure out who it was."
"I said I won't go over ten percent. You can afford it after your robbery! Five percent."
"Eight percent!"
"Seven!"
"And a half," the biker concluded. The old man grumbled and nodded, and lowered his shotgun. The situation seems to have diffused as the old man turned on the pump.
As James crunched up and watched, he started feeling warmer, and his hypothermia slowly starts to subside. (+2 to further hypothermia rolls)
"You know that the rate's twenty percent, Kenny. We have this conversation every time! We fill up this tub, and twenty percent of it's free. You know what we do for you!"
"You screw us over, that's what you do! I won't have it! I've tolerated your hooliganism long enough. I won't go over ten percent this time! You'll pay me what Hyde pays me from now on!"
"You're not in a position to negotiate."
"Damnation I'm not! My grandson is one of yours!"
"I never touched your daughter."
"Doesn't matter. You or one of your men. You gave me another mouth to feed, and now you're going to pay a fair price."
The lead biker cussed and kicked one of his guys at random, who insisted it wasn't him.
"All right. Ten percent, this time, until I figure out who it was."
"I said I won't go over ten percent. You can afford it after your robbery! Five percent."
"Eight percent!"
"Seven!"
"And a half," the biker concluded. The old man grumbled and nodded, and lowered his shotgun. The situation seems to have diffused as the old man turned on the pump.