"Please, Mr. Sherman, do not assume from the cadaver on your floor that I am somehow incapable of choosing the more… mutually beneficial road," Laedio said, sliding his chair a few inches to the right, away from the slowly widening pool of blood. "Well, mutually beneficial for everyone except this fellow here."
He gestured lazily toward the corpse, as if discussing a spilled cup rather than a man whose life had ended moments before.
"Now," he continued, tapping a finger against the table, "given my name and reputation, I trust you have at least an outline of why I am here?
Yes? It is not, after all, an enigma that strains the imagination. You are criminal."
Sherman made no attempt at denial. The shoemaker stood trembling, pale, and hollow-eyed.
