Oh is that who I should be talking to. [Here he'd been barking at Yseult's skirts for an extra stipend. Figures he should've gone to the black hearted murderer for it instead.

—is so brisk a thought that it hardly interrupts his patter:]

I hope you're not after much, friend. Riftwatch's wages consider that they offer to feed and keep a roof over your head.

[And clothe you, which may be the more pressing point. But he doesn't say that.]