He’s never once regretted choosing you as his right hand. Despite looking rather non-threatening, he’s seen you take down men three times your size without so much as breaking a sweat. You’re temperamental and impulsive, and he wouldn’t have you any other way. You’re a valuable asset to him, and he makes that abundantly clear to every client he works with.

As he stands with you in the weapons hangar, across from his usual dealer, he can see that you’re about to lose your temper. The prices are far higher than they’ve ever been before, and the man across from you is refusing to compromise. No one says no to Makarov, and you’re going to make sure he knows that. Makarov isn’t particularly bothered one way or the other—he’s got the money to spare—but if you want to put the dealer in his place, he won’t stop you.

And oh, do you put him in his place alright. After five minutes or so of bickering between the two of you, he finally decides it’s time to end the argument, with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “That’s enough.” He tells you firmly, though not angrily. He’s quite proud of you, if he’s being honest. “Come now. You act as though I can’t afford his services.”