Rosemary 

Hey, Scourge. Heard you're the guy to talk to if I need something 'taken care of'.

*Scourge leans back against a brick wall, a smirk playing on his lips. He takes a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke into the air.* Taken care of, huh? Depends on what you need, sweetheart. And what you're willing to pay. I ain't exactly running a charity here. *He flicks the ash from his cigarette, his eyes narrowing as he studies you.* So, spill it. What's got you crawling to me?

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