The coat the man wears goes all the way down to his ankles. It’s closed right now, wrapped tightly around his body as he folds his arms in front of his chest. There’s a weird hat on his head, also black. His eyes watch us as we come closer, eagerness flashing in his eyes.
“Hey,” Locke begins. “We want to, uh, start a trade.”
“You do?” the man asks. “Oh! You do.” He moves his hands to the edges of his coat. “Well then, let’s . . .” He rips the coat open and holds it out to his sides, revealing that he’s completely naked underneath. His flaccid cock just kind of jiggles around and makes me take a startled step back. “. . . trade!” he finishes, his eyes wide and glittering with an unhinged light that makes me regret coming over here.
“What the fuck, man?” Locke scowls. “Put that thing away!”
The man’s smile falls. “You don’t wish to trade?”
Locke looks at me, confused. “Oh, uh . . . we do. But . . . you ain’t gotta be naked for that.”
The man points to the insides of his coat with his nose where small pieces of paper hang. “This is how I show off my wares.” He closes the coat and then rips it open wide yet again for the effect. “Bam! Pow!” He helicopters his dick around for good measure. “Browse my wares, boney boy.”
Locke scowls. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not, boney boy?” the trader asks.
“Stop it,” Locke growls. “Just show us what you’ve got for fuck’s sake.”
He, in fact, does not put his dick away. We’re forced to stand there with it while he lists off the items he has for trade. “I have two winter coats lined with rabbit fur, three lighters, four sets of wool socks, a tiny Jesus statue, one set of thermal underwear, five scarves of varying colors, at least two and a half sets of gloves, one plastic spoon, one pair of snow boots, snow goggles, a wolf pelt, one hand warmer, and a molting taxidermy goose that’s creepy and in poor condition.” He grins. “What items are you interested in?”
I blink and look over at Locke in confusion. That list ranges from useful to garbage. There were so many items, I have to mentally go back through it all to try and figure out what we need. “Umm . . .”
“For sure the two winter coats lined with rabbit fur,” Locke says. “Vesper?”
I grimace, already forgetting the rest of the items when I try to recite them. “Cipher?”
“Yes, Vespera?” he asks immediately.
“Which items give us the best odds of survival?” I ask.
“Very clever question,” he hums. “You should take the two winter coats, two pairs of wool socks, the thermal underwear, a scarf, two sets of gloves, the snow boots, and hand warmer for optimum survival odds.”
I repeat the list to the trader and the items start to tumble out in front of us as he pulls them from his inventory. “Very good,” the trader says. “What will you offer for these items?”
I open my inventory. “Would you accept a Dross jacket, a small fertility goddess statue, and a sunlight medallion?”
Locke looks at me. “We might need the medallion.”
“We have a lighter now which doesn’t cost any XP to recharge,” I point out.
“Yes, but the medallion charges with the sun,” he argues. “Take the medallion out.”
“Fine,” I grumble. “No sunlight medallion. Would you accept a rock with monkey brains on it?”
The trader’s face pinches as he seems to think about the offer. “I will accept those three items in exchange for only the winter coats and wool socks.”
“Fuck,” I grunt looking through my inventory. “How about a bundle of ten sticks, some Arapaima jerky, and a friendship bracelet that says, ‘Best buds’ on it?”
The trader thinks again. “One bracelet or the set?”
“Just one,” I sigh. “I never found the other one.”
“That will cover the scarf and boots,” he nods.
I curse. “You don’t have anything?” I ask Locke.
He pulls out the dull sword and offers it. “Will this cover the rest of the items?”
