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Summary
Scaramouche raises an eyebrow, used to the way fatui negotiations usually go. “Aren’t you gonna name your price?”
The architect pauses, as if just realizing. “I need to know what I’m dealing with first.”
This time it’s Scaramouche’s turn to hesitate. For an unending second, he’s back at the swordsman village, unsure of what he has to fear if what he is becomes known. He shakes his head slightly.
The architect looks at him expectantly, so Scaramouche stands up and lays himself across the table.
or:
The doll and the architect