Green Toes studies Jawsey closely. His stare is unwavering, unnerving. He doesn’t share the social niceties of metahumans. He scours Jawseys aura, then stares some more.

“Very well,” he says. “Just as you mortals speak among yourselves, so do we fae. Your reputation is known, Jawsey. I am aware that you have done these deals in the past and so that you know what you are agreeing to in the future. The spirits appreciate this willingness; it is part of the reason that the come so readily for you, and that who Comes is sometimes larger than who you Called.

“But know this,” he says with a raised finger. “What is done can be undone. Those spirits who hear your whispers may stop listening. They may even become your bane. That is not a threat, just an understanding of how agreements work among the fae.”

He extends a sylvan hand in what appears to be an attempt at a handshake.