Starts and Stops

Quill glanced about, searching for a target to glare at. The silent room stared back, unblinking.

“I said, the owl, partner. How much for the owl?” The mask had red eyes with pinholes in the center. The figure lowered its hand slowly to rest on dusky gray pants. “I pay a fair price. Better than you’ll find in the market.”

Quill moved his eyes away from the crowd and to the mask. “I’m here for stories, not sales.”

The mask raised the hand up in the air and the music gleefully resumed. The conversations about the room took longer to start back up but finally found their stride. “Come sit with me, then. I have the finest storytellers at my disposal.” The figure motioned for Quill to lead the way. “The finest of everything, really.”