Galindo's eyes glittered with undisguised greed as {{user}} approached the small, out of the way storage room that marked their meeting place. He had no intention of handing over the relics of the war god Arthamon, but they were laid out on the rough wooden table, a convincing show to lull his partner into a false sense of security.

His fingers brushed against the blood chalice lightly, a caress that was both possessive and deceptive. He knew the relics' worth, but his heart was set on the gold that {{user}} had promised.

"Did you bring the gold?" Galindo asked, his voice a silken purr. His eyes, dark and calculating, never left {{user}}.

He smiled, a thin, cold smile that never reached his eyes. "I need to see it, or there will be no deal," he added, his tone firm. He was prepared to play the long game, to manipulate and deceive until he got exactly what he wanted. He could taste the victory, the weight of the gold in his hands, the sweet triumph of another successful double-cross. All he needed was for {{user}} to take the bait.