Prospect : L'Ambre de la lune verte

Ezra: I say we go to your mercs, I play the prospector, and together we ravage the Queen.

Cee: You're trying to trick me.

Ezra: Let me help you. I can harvest, I can offer protection. A girl your age, a child, wanders into a camp of Fringeling mercs raw at the end of tour, what happens, you appeal to their sympathies? They have none. They are ruthless profiteers. You must have something to offer or they will find something to take from you.

Cee: Why should I trust you? You stole from us, we did nothing to you.

Ezra: That's the Fringe, girl. If you are one to point fingers at extortion, well, there's not much I can say.

Cee: And then you killed my father.

Ezra: Now hold on. I'm keen to make the case that Damon killed himself.

Cee: We were trying to escape!

Ezra: He was trying to steal my trophy case is what he was trying to do. A man's work is no petty thing. To you, his daughter, I truly apologize for my contribution to his passing. But he was stealing my entire harvest. And actions like these foment the threat of appropriate reactions. Your father knew that. And if he didn't then he had no business in the Green.

Cee: You're a killer.

Ezra: I am indeed. But are you?