(straightening the timeline a bit)
When miss Imogen returns from her brief meeting with the Zhentarim, she sees a queue has formed outside the Inn of potential guides. The barman has said only one at a tie, and the boy who washes the glasses has been conscripted into being a bouncer. He is not good at this job, and some of the guides resent him.
Miss Imogen walks by and sits at the table, where the Wren has seated himself, his arms wide over the backs of two adjoining chairs as he confidently describes what they will need. His eyes go wide at the sight of the bracelet.
The Wren, though very good at concealing his true feelings, was eager to get ahold of the snakes. Moreover, he appeared to be slightly afraid of it, as if he wasn't sure if he was willing to touch the trinket with his bare hands.
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OOC:
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If Imogen holds out for more, he will be willing to "call in a favour" and have Faroul and his halfling companion waive their first tenday's fees, if the Sticks will have them. Those two owe him. You can hire multiple guides, if you like.
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He turns and makes eye contact with Faroul, standing in the front of the queue. It is not surreptitious.
"Well, there's one guide I won't trust," she thinks to herself, and turns back to the Wren.
He's placed a single gem on the table. Its value, though she cannot estimate it precisely, it is clearly more than sufficient for their needs. She plays with the bracelet on her wrist, spinning it with her other hand as if uncertain about whether she might keep it.
She senses that there is no additional money forthcoming, however.
Rodrigo rose an eyebrow at Miss Imogen "I was under the impression that this item was... dangerous. Is wearing it wise?"
"Wise or not, the problem is no longer ours," she says, removing it. With one movement, she disentwines the bracelet (is it only her imagination that feels it clinging to her bare skin?) and places it on the table before Wren, and retrieves the gem as she draws her hand back.
"There. We can use this towards hiring a guide." She has no interest in interviewing candidates, but will stay until she is satisfied. "If we can find a healer, who knows the area, that would be my preference," she tells her companions.
For those who might be listening, the voice of a vegepygmy in the queue outside squeals with delight.
Once the Wren leaves the table, they can begin. She says nothing when talking to the first few candidates. When Qawasha and his companion appear, she states simply, "This one will do."
Qawasha replied to Rodrigo, "Jobal is the Merchant Prince who provides licenses to Guides. As I hear it, all the Merchant Princes used to license various guides, but Jobal, having once heard the call of the Chwinga, purchased all of the commissions."
"The undead do need to be brought low," she avers. "By accepting your stipulation, we trust you can distinguish your rate from those of the others?" She is prepared to haggle, if custom expects it, but she is talking straight and holds his gaze.
"Good." she says, as if that seals the deal. "If we want additional guides, I suggest we include Quawasha and his friend in the negotiations.
It is only now that a drink is brought to her, an alcoholic concoction with mashed fruit at the bottom. She sips it, elegantly, and is surprised at the sweet syrupy taste.
If the interviews continue, Miss Imogen does not participate. She finishes her drink, and excuses herself.
"I am heading to the docks to investigate the cost of a boat. If anyone wishes to accompany me, I shall be leaving in a few minutes." She stands, and retires to her room. In a few minutes she returns in a different blouse, prepared to again face the unbearable heat of the city.
