"Why don't you tell me what you want instead?" Rachel asked, her voice regaining that melodic, superior edge.
She seemed to realise I wasn't just hoarding coins for the sake of greed; I was a man with a desperate hunger for resources. "I have tons of items here. I'm sure I have what you are looking for."
"Then give me a few tons of those 'tons' you have," I teased, though my mind was already racing through her potential inventory. Her annoyed face—the way her brow furrowed in a way that only made her look more stunning—made it incredibly difficult for me not to laugh.
"Alright, alright… I need stat points. Do you have any?" I asked, finally letting the laughter subside. I knew she likely had a small reserve, but I expected it to be a modest amount—perhaps enough to push one Bulltor to level three. What she said next, however, hit me like a physical blow.
"Stat points? Why didn't you say this from the start?" The confidence in her tone was startling.
