-Beserker Blood- (Roellen Slums)

Keedle's hand clenched the strap tighter, but didn't lift it up. Instead, his other hand rose to point a clawed finger back at the man while a scowl dropped his heavy brows down at a harsh angle, "No way, bub! That's now how this deal works." The goblin made no move to step forward, stubbornly holding his ground within the garage. "This deal's going nowhere till I got eyes on what I came here for."

Behind him, Keedle scarcely registered a dull 'crack' as Zhenn'arh rolled one shoulder, and then the other while lowering the arm that had been raised to shield his eyes. The troll couldn't quite see who was still inside the vehicle anyway, but he had spotted the woman and the very recognizable weapon she carried. With her eyes now turned to him, he adjusted his stance, dropping his naturally slouched form by a few inches, until his shadow fell over the goblin, and one long arm hung just slightly in front of Erathun.

The man beside the SUV didn't pay any mind to Zhenn's posturing. Looking unfazed by the three, and only mildly piqued at the goblin's bullheadedness, he nodded behind him, "Fair enough. Claire, bring it out."

The woman shifted the rifle to one hand and leaned into the opened rear door she'd stepped out of only moments ago. Whatever words she spoke were too muffled to hear, but her movements were sharp and deliberate, and after a few moments of struggle, she was stepping back and hauling someone else out of the vehicle.

Past the glare of highbeams, and beyond the opened door, James staggered into view, stumbling under the woman's forceful grasp. With his hands behind his back, the prawn stood with a visible tremble, his spindly limbs shaking and his antenna twittering wildly.

"Satisfied?" The man called out. He'd reached back to take Jame's by one spiny elbow and hauled the alien forward, until he was standing, quivering in front of the headlights.

Erathun took in a quaking breath. He didn't often interact with the prawn, but something about Jame's movements made his stomach tighten. Was the alien hurt? Or just really frightened? He glanced for the umpteenth time to Zhenn'arh, then down to Keedle. He didn't notice the pink tint that had begun to color the whites of the troll's eyes, but even his human-guised ears could hear the way Keedle's voice had climbed a little, when next the little man spoke.

"The hell'd you do to him?! James, get over here!" The hand that had pointed at the man now opened and gestured emphatically in the prawn's direction, "You guys are lucky I'm willing ta-"

"Hand over the bag." Bluntly, the tall fellow interrupted Keedle, while giving prawn a shove against his back. James staggered forward and fell, dropping to his knees in a daze.

"Aye!" Keedle barked out, his emotions climbing, "No need to be so rough!" The strap on the backpack twisted beneath the goblin's grasp, almost as if the man was using it as an anchor to keep himself from charging forward. But despite the way James struggled in front of the SUV, his efforts to stand made difficult by his ongoing tremors, Keedle held his ground. And because he didn't move forward, neither did Zhenn'arh or Erathun. "James, c'mon - just get over here, by Zhenny and Rath. Away from those creeps."

Stone faced, the man spoke again, "Your turn now, hand over the bag." Behind him, the woman had settled the dart-rifle into both hands again.