"Oh I'm getting asked this time eh? No demands, quick words, or promises of extra pay without question? Hell, either this job is more serious than I thought... or you're shy because you've finally fallen to my dashing looks and charming attitude." Damian spoke and tried to keep a straight face before bursting out with a hearty laugh. "C'mon kiddo, lighten up a bit! You're always so doom and gloom... like a rain cloud." The mercenary grinned playfully and pat Gladius gently on the head as if consoling a child. "Don't you worry... big brother Merc here is going to take care of this bully and make a nice example for all of his horrible friends alright?... As long as you pay him of course, guess this is why I don't have any real siblings? Not really the brotherly thing to do, asking for money to make the bullies go away."
Merc sighed and motioned for the bartenders attention. "What now Merc?" The older player asked begrudgingly. "Mind getting me two glasses of water? One for the kid and one for my hangover?" The barkeep gave a sharp and begrudging glare, but brought the glasses swiftly regardless, Merc had half of his downed in seconds, the cool refreshing liquid making him feel more relaxed almost instantly. With a yawn, he reclined back into the booth's seat stretching his arms and cracking his knuckles before yawning again and continuing to speak. "Gotta say though kid... you're acting awfully sketchy with the level of regard you're holding this job in... so forgive me if I have one or two questions before we continue."
Merc quickly glanced around the bar and managed to spot someone glancing over idly, listening casually to his conversation. Damian didn't appreciate people sticking their noses into his business... and oh look, the bartender had decided to go out for a break at exactly the right time. In seconds Damian had his gun blade brandished again, his hand rolling against it's side as he slipped a small clip into place, the weapon now fully loaded it took a few mere milliseconds to prime the weapon and fire, the bullets aim was fast and true and it almost instantly shattered the pint glass clutched tightly in the listeners hand... causing the man to squeal in panic and duck under his table. Damian just grunted and shrugged his shoulders without a care, his message had been sent and he didn't feel like raising his voice again... if he caught anyone else listening in, he'd fire again; a process that would continue until the lousy lumps of meat that were his fellow patrons got the message.
"First things first Gladius. If this guild is so weak... why do you need me to do the job? If it was just some average joe's out for some sort of petty rivalry then you and your knights of hyper-power or whatever should be more than able to handle any plans they might have; which brings me to my next question... what exactly is this plan they have? It's obviously something big enough to warrant your attention and your desire to see them disbanded... which leads me into my third question? Why bother making an example in order to disband them? You want the guild out of your way for good right? Why don't you just have me, oh I don't know, kill all of 'em? If they're as weak as you say it wouldn't take me more than a half-hour to an hour extra at most... and that variable is determined only by how fast the idiots can run once they realize they're outmatched. Hell, I wouldn't even charge you extra for the extra blood on my hands." Confident that not a single soul had dared to pay any attention to what he was saying (based on the loud rabble and ruckus in the room), Damian holstered his gun and folded his arms before reclining into the soft, cozy seats of the booth. He gave Gladius a somewhat contemplative look... he would have prefered his questions to be answered, obviously... though it wouldn't be a major problem if they weren't.
Money was money... either way he was going to take the job.