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<blockquote data-quote="dave_o" data-source="post: 3570232" data-attributes="member: 2933">Tesh returns from the chamber apparently claimed as his own a few moments later. The relatively flamboyantly cut duelist's attire from earlier is still the accountant's dress, yet it has been buttoned, sashed, and tucked to look rather more conservative. The mousy ringlets have been tamed into a leather tie at the nape of the neck, and Tesh's spectacles sit folded in a breast pocket. Once bright red, the Glamerweave has slid down the spectrum into a muted maroon. A faint smear of blood mars Tesh's forehead.&quot;It is often,&quot; he begins in the slight nasal arrogance of expertise, &quot;that one's financial downfall is simply a matter of poor bookkeeping -- a silver here, a gold here, unaccounted, can riddle the infrastructure of wealth to send it toppling into poverty.&quot;&quot;If I may,&quot; Tesh takes the sheaf from Avram once finished, before squinting at the papers, keeping the spectacles securely in pocket. &quot;From what I perchanced to hear on my return from my chambers your ideas seem sound, and to add it is my firm belief that Mister Taskerfein's assets could simply be poorly managed -- introducing a well-minded accountant like myself could herald a drastic turn-around in finances.&quot;&quot;And perhaps,&quot; as Tesh speaks a thin line of blood smiles across his throat before beginning an ooze downward, &quot;Karamazon may find the secrets of his vintage in hands more suitable to our cause.&quot;The accountant sits, absently daubing at the no longer bleeding lesion with a kerchief. &quot;Have we eaten yet?&quot;</blockquote>

[QUOTE="dave_o, post: 3570232, member: 2933"] Tesh returns from the chamber apparently claimed as his own a few moments later. The relatively flamboyantly cut duelist's attire from earlier is still the accountant's dress, yet it has been buttoned, sashed, and tucked to look rather more conservative. The mousy ringlets have been tamed into a leather tie at the nape of the neck, and Tesh's spectacles sit folded in a breast pocket. Once bright red, the Glamerweave has slid down the spectrum into a muted maroon. A faint smear of blood mars Tesh's forehead. [color=lightblue]"It is often,"[/color] he begins in the slight nasal arrogance of expertise, [color=lightblue]"that one's financial downfall is simply a matter of poor bookkeeping -- a silver here, a gold here, unaccounted, can riddle the infrastructure of wealth to send it toppling into poverty." "If I may,"[/color] Tesh takes the sheaf from Avram once finished, before squinting at the papers, keeping the spectacles securely in pocket. [color=lightblue]"From what I perchanced to hear on my return from my chambers your ideas seem sound, and to add it is my firm belief that Mister Taskerfein's assets could simply be poorly managed -- introducing a well-minded accountant like myself could herald a drastic turn-around in finances."[/color] [color=lightblue]"And perhaps,"[/color] as Tesh speaks a thin line of blood smiles across his throat before beginning an ooze downward, [color=lightblue]"Karamazon may find the secrets of his vintage in hands more suitable to our cause."[/color] The accountant sits, absently daubing at the no longer bleeding lesion with a kerchief. [color=lightblue]"Have we eaten yet?"[/color] [/QUOTE]

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