Sunday Evening

"You're free to take my head if it doesn't," the man chuckled as he nonchalantly declared.

"I'll take you up on your offer, then," Jennifer smiled.

Contrary to what one might expect of a hot-headed, cruel leader of a faction, Jennifer really would have his head if the so-called discovery disappointed her.

And let's just say that's exactly what our boi was counting on.

Wait, that's exactly what one should expect of such a person.

Anyway, whatever the expectations, the important thing was that she had agreed to the terms and signed the contract.

That was the push most of those present here needed. They too pulled out their pens and quills and started signing the contracts.

Well, not all of them, obviously.

One of them, with rowdy black hairs and a scar across his face, stood up and tore the contract, "I have no intention of dancing on your palms."

"Oh. Well, see you later, alligator," the man on the stage waved.