The Jumper looked at me in a weird way. Even without being able to see his full face behind that thick, purple-tinged scarf, I could sense the visceral disgust radiating from him. My request had clearly insulted his sensibilities as a warrior.
"Are you asking me for that trash?" he spat, his voice echoing with a jagged edge. "What? Are you going to be a clown for those gods? Entertain them in the middle of their sex?"
His words were harsh, dripping with the cynicism of someone who had spent too long watching the "Great Ones" treat human suffering as a theatre performance. But I didn't care about his tone. In the face of my ambition, his ridicule was nothing but background noise. I noticed the key detail hidden in his mockery.
"So you have one?" I asked, my voice eager, almost desperate.
