(It doesn’t seem like he’s lying to you about the value of the jewelry, or of the materials composing it. But you get the impression that, although he implied that he would be selling it for materials, he is likely planning to resell at least some of it as-is to others he knows through the jeweler’s guild, who would then sell the jewelry as finished pieces.)
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The bartender nods. “That sure sounds bad to me,” he echoes. “But if I were him, and trying to hide, I wouldn’t just stay with some rich craftsman, I’d go in disguise. Think about it — he’d attract a lot less attention that way, don’t you think?”
Canary gives the Jeweller a look incidentally before her mouth manages to move. Her face gives a clear message ‘I know you’re not going to salvage all of it’.
(waiting to see if the man responds to it.)
“Of course, that would be less than the value of the finished pieces,” he adds smoothly. “Sold individually to someone looking for jewelry, they’d fetch…”
He goes through the pieces, naming their prices, but doesn’t attempt to increase his own offer to you. His intended subtext is not subtle: he thinks that he’s an Important Man With Excellent Connections who could fetch a better price, and he’s clearly not parsing you as the same, and thus thinks it would be challenging for you to get a better offer.
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(what is the highest object price he listed?)
(and what’s the difference between that and the second highest)
He nods. “That makes sense.”
“There are refugees in Hazel Ford from the ongoing conflict down south, yes?”
(Early posted oops)
“Is there a place for them in the town?”
Paprika waits outside the jewelry shop for a moment around the corner, scoping out the surroundings for a bit while she judges what to do.
It isn’t so much any indication as it is boredom that prompts her to dust off her dress and enter the store with a smile.
“Good evening!” she calls out to the jeweler as she steps behind Canary as if to wait in line.
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It feels right to care for the plight of the Rostlanders.
Dogmatically, of course. But there is an itching in my soul that is telling me it is the right thing to do.
I am many things, most defined by those around me. I am Wanderer, a title for those who wander. I am the group’s leader and thus must be dedicated toward its desires and the welfare of its members.
Removing all that, who am I?
{Guess that’s… one thing I got right today.}
(The most expensive is a gaudy bracelet with several inlaid moonstones, valued at seventy crowns if sold as-is, followed by a matching pendant, but you’d guess he’s offering close to full price on those — it seems like he thinks more highly of the moonstones than of the actual workmanship. The items you’re getting the worst deals on are the ones of pure metal; for example, there’s a gold ring with an elaborate design, which he seems to think would fetch ten crowns on its own, but if he had to melt it down just for the metal there’s no chance it’s worth more than a crown.)
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“Yes, of course. I’ll be sure to have it ready for you by then.”
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After a pause, as Paprika glances between Canary, the jeweler, and the assortment of moonstones and metal on the table, she speaks up to interrupt.
“I am looking to replace this cheap travel necklace—“ she gestures to her chest “— with something genuine.”
“…”
Guess we’re doing this. It would be bad if I just-
… -I wait for Rika. I don’t want to interrupt her.
He sucks in a long breath through his teeth. “They’ve been filling up all the cheap inns, and some of them have even gone in together on renting flats in the tenement houses. But no one was expecting there’d be quite so many all at once. The town’s getting by for now, but… I sure hope someone gets to work putting up some new housing, because I doubt it’ll stop there.”
“Or the Lord-Mayor could just bar them from the city,” chimes in one of his patrons.
“Or set a minimum price for the inns,” says another. “There’s nothing wrong with taking them if they’ve got plenty of coin to spend.”
The bartender places his forearms on the bar and gives them a look. Up close, his left arm is definitely moving oddly — it’s not fully paralyzed, he’s still capable of moving it at all, but it’s slower than his right arm, and it ends up positioned slightly oddly on his counter.
“…Or not,” says one of the customers who was just talking, sounding rather meeker.
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(Rika is not lying, she’s gotten multiple comments on her jewelry before and now that she’s traveling with companions she’s less worried about theft and more worried about the way she’s seen. She’s also doing this for negotiating power, obviously.)
“Good evening!” says the young woman by the jeweler’s side.
The jeweler himself doesn’t greet you, but when you start discussing the fact that you’re in the market for new jewelry, he nods. “I see. Might I ask what sort of item you’re interested in?”
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Jan the bookkeeper looks around the group still in his bookstore, and doesn’t quite manage to stop himself from looking at the door.
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“I’m a priest. Could I get a look at that?”
“So am I, but maybe you’re a stronger priest than I am.”
He repositions himself to give you a better view of his arm.
“It’s why I gave up adventuring, you know. Broke it on a day when I was already out of healing, and it must’ve knit itself up wrong. But hey, maybe if you can fix it I could take up adventuring again—”
“Don’t do it, Messire Priest!” calls one of the customers.
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(if you would like to assess his arm in more detail, you can roll Heal, or some other skill if you’ve got a different pitch)