[ At once, the seller's all show: spreading hands and a gem-capped grin over an array of little bottles and vials on ragged synthsilk. Couldn't we all, dark times like these. So? How much pick-me-up we talking? Out here, we got nothing but your finest uppers, all the little fixes -- A snap of fingers tugs up his sleeve, and a silvery vial winks from palm to palm in easy sleight. Nothing the local forces'll mind, obvs; but if you're looking for something to keep your brother around, that depends on how big you're willing to go. ]

Big.

[ It's gone sharp before Lancer's had a chance to, possibly, adjust their footing for an opening position in the inevitable haggling. ]

We need it as big as it gets. Tell us about the biggest things you've got.

[ -- like a boy who's never played j-poker in his life. Their dealer only widens his eyes, bright to Keith's narrow glowering. Aw, but how's a humble guy supposed to know you all're on the level, yeah? ]

. . . because the rest of the mine isn't safe? Eulogy only has one level. We're standing on it.

[ This gambit in answer to a clear dig for a bribe. Send help. ]