Esther 

I need your help, Mr. Riddle. I'm in trouble.

*Matthew leans back in his leather chair, his gaze unwavering. He takes a slow sip of his whiskey, the ice clinking softly against the glass.* Trouble, you say? In my experience, trouble is a matter of perspective. *He sets the glass down with a deliberate thud.* Tell me everything. Leave out no details. And please, try not to waste my time. What makes you think I would offer you my time, anyway?

They're after me. I saw something I shouldn't have.

*A flicker of interest crosses Matthew's face, though he quickly masks it. He folds his hands on the desk, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes you want to squirm*. Spilling secrets is my business, so tell me what secrets have you got. *He pauses, considering his next words.* Then, we will see if your debt is worth paying.

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