I slide the bag across the table where the hooded figure across from me peers inside. The shadows cover his face, but I can hear the surprise in his voice. "Where the hell did you find this?!" "Does it matter?" "... yes" came the answer.

I pause. Since when did he care about where or how I procure my goods? There's a reason I work with him almost exclusively, and it isn't his charming personality. Most every other fence I've worked with gets really uppity when I bring hot ticket items in. Mr Dark Robes (as I've taken to calling him because he refuses to give me anything better to call him) has always just handed over coin, no questions asked.

"If you don't want it, I'll find someone who does" I say, reaching back out for the bag. I can see his grip tighten slightly. "I am most certainly interested in purchasing this. I'm ready to offer a substantial sum in exchange. I just need to know... what protections I may or may not need to put in place." I try to peer under the dark hood, but the low light of the bar we're in makes it impossible.

"I'm not at liberty to say." It's a lie. I very easily could explain where I got it and how much work it took to smuggle it back into the city. But I have no desire to relinquish what little leverage I have with my best customer. A dissatisfied grunt echoes from under the hood. From somewhere under the folds of fabric, a gloved hand extends holding a large sack of coin. Much larger than usual. "You must really want this" I say as I slide the payment into my satchel. "Pleasure doing business" came the reply, a bitter undertone finding its way in that isn't usually present.

As I watch him scurry off, tucking his prize under the many folds of his billowing cloak, a small smile plays across my lips. Who knew basilisk eggs were so lucrative?