The memory still churned in his mind as he sat hunched there @ his stand under the blinding white light o’ the sun.
“Lord, if I don’t get that tome, I’m dead,” he said in a hushed tone, albeit 1 still strained with anger.
“& I told you: no less than 80,000₧,” replied the mousy trader. “¿Trade or no trade?”
His head jerked up to see a pale man in a white shirt & shades standing before him.
“¿What?” asked the warlock.
“I said, ‘¿You have any pink lemonade?’ I only like pink lemonade.”
Lord Citrus sighed & said in a tight voice, “No. No pink lemonade.”