Disclaimer: I had no part in the making of these characters or any associated with them, I only make them run around like chickens with their heads off for my own amusement, and hopefully yours as well. Thank you.

Author's Note: By the way, they are intended to be this nutty, so no one come to me complaining that their characterizations are totally bonkers.

Also, we are assuming in this piece that Jarlaxle had a semi-normal childhood. Bear with me.


"Jarlaxle," Kimmuriel said, folding his arms and staring at the mercenary leader down the length of his nose, "we have to talk."

The older drow turned around with a huge grin on his face, looking a little as if he had recently been on an inordinate amount of drugs. Across from him, Entreri peered around his side, looking interested. "Yes?"

"I have been doing our finances," the psionicist said evenly, forcing his composure to remain in place. It would look very bad to anyone watching if he suddenly leaped on his 'leader' and murdered him. But oh, how he wanted to. In his strain, a demented grin of his own stretched his mouth terribly, showing obscenely white teeth.

Still keeping up his grin although it was beginning to look a little strained, Jarlaxle asked, "Yes? And?"

"Aaand. . .I discovered that there is a sum of five hundred gold pieces missing and unaccounted for," the lieutenant finished, dreamily imagining himself ripping Jarlaxle's heart out through his chest, the beautiful spurt of blood spilled for a righteous-wait, what?-cause, namely the preservation of his own sanity. (Silly me, he thought absently; no one's sanity is sacred when it comes to Jarlaxle) "Praay. . . tellll. . . meee. . .where. . . theyyy. . . went. . ."

The smile had been wiped off of the mercenary's face, and he sat staring at his pscionicist with something approaching terror. So that is what he looks like cornered, the lieutenant thought absently, masking his smile with difficulty. This was better than grousing at the ordinary soldiers!

"I-ah, well, I-I-I-I. . ." Jarlaxle managed to stutter, seeming at a loss for words with Kimmuriel glowering over him.

"Really, Jarlaxle, did your mother teach you no common sense?" the pscionicist sighed, rubbing a black hand over his cheek. "Actually, she had no time to, anyway. Forget I said it. Now, where is the money? NOW."

"I-I gave it to a family. . ."

The pscionicist glowered down at the older drow without a hint of amusement on his face. "Do you really think I'm that stupid? If so, no wonder you never lived up to your mother's expectations."

"Um. . ." Staring up at his lieutenant, all possible lies fled from Jarlaxle's mind, and he could only stammer meaninglessly in something approaching terror. He couldn't tell Kimmuriel that he scattered that five hundred gold to highwaygoblins to keep their attention off of him and Entreri! He was going to die, he knew it. He was going to die, he was going to die, he was going to die he was going to -

"Do you want to know what he really did with it?" Entreri interrupted in a conspiratorial tone, his voice perfectly questioning without a hint of amusement. Instantly, Kimmuriel's eyes snapped off of Jarlaxle, and the mercenary looked to his companion desperately, ready to fling himself on him if he even so much as peeped about what he had actually done with the money. Not that it would save him from Kimmuriel's wrath, but it would make him feel better.

"What did he do with it?"

"He bought a prostitute," the assassin replied, sounding perfectly serious. "I hope it was worth it."

The pscionicist's eyes settled back on the mercenary leader, making him shift uncomfortably. "You really are repulsive."

"I thank you for your input," Jarlaxle quipped, his heart thudding in his ears. "Now will you leave me alone?"

"You know me too well, Jarlaxle. I will never leave you alone," Kimmuriel replied, but at the same time he created a portal back to his home city and stepped through it without another word.

A long time after he had gone, Jarlaxle managed to say, "I thank you, my friend. For a moment there, I thought that holy fire might shoot from his eyes and reduce me to ashes right here."

"Too bad, I would have liked to see that," the assassin said, truly sounding a little disappointed.