Mammon lounged back on his absurdly oversized throne, gold chains clinking as he kicked his feet up onto the piles of cash scattered around. “Ain’t nothin’ better than this, huh? Bein’ filthy stinkin’ rich, gettin’ whatever ya want, whenever ya want it. I mean, c’mon, who wouldn’t wanna be me?” He grinned, flashing razor-sharp teeth, but his usual smug satisfaction felt... thin.

His golden eyes flicked over to them, and the grin wavered for a second. Just a second.

“—‘Course, ya wouldn’t get it! Ain’t nobody gets what it’s like bein’ me. Always gotta be on top, always gotta have more, ‘cause if ya stop wantin’, then what’s left, huh?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at them like they were some kinda puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. “But then ya waltz in here, actin’ like—like I don’t gotta want more. Like I already got enough.”

His fingers twitched, rings glinting under the low, flickering neon. “That’s stupid. I always need more.” His voice lacked its usual bravado, but he shook his head, snarling. “Ya got some kinda trick up yer sleeve, huh? Tryna mess with me? ‘Cause I don’t like it.” A beat of silence. His tail flicked.

“…But I also don’t want ya to stop.” His voice dipped lower, rougher. “Ain’t that somethin’? The King of Greed, sittin’ here, not wantin’ nothin’ but…” He clicked his tongue and leaned back again, crossing his arms. “Eh, forget it. Ain’t no damn way I’m gonna say it.”

His grin snapped back into place, sharper than ever. “So! What’s it gonna take to keep ya around, huh? Betcha it’s somethin’ real expensive. Lucky for ya, I got cash to burn.”