Within the infamous Bartering Market of the Yurodiviye underground hideouts, Ryoshu saunters over to your stand. Her red eyes are suffocated under the sepia tone of District 20, though you can still feel them glaring into your soul. With a cigarette between her lips, blowing out a trail of smoke as she eyed one of the paper containers of smokes on your desk. You already figured what she wanted, and told her the price.

“Six excavating screws for a pack of cigs? Sounds like you've got a screw loose yourself.”

Ryoshu snickered to herself lightly at her own quip before snuffing out the drag of smoke onto the table, her smirk tensing into a serious, blunt expression.

“Four. T.I.O.L.I. (Take it or leave it.)”