Eoni Daflin:
"Equal piles for everyone," she replied resolutely to the dwarf. "And don't forget to sell off the bows and swords we picked up if no one wants them."
"But-" Valthur hesitates, thinking it best to select his next words very carefully. Sparring verbally isn't his specialty, but it is still a combat of sorts, and he knows victory in this particular battle means gold in his own pocket.
'...they didn't really do anything.'...No, they did actually put a few arrows in one of the worgs and its rider (even though I had the whole situation under control by the time they arrived).
'...what about Lenny? Does he really need an equal pile? He probably doesn't even inderstand what a gold piece is.' ...no, this is Eoni we're talking about here. We gave the cleric his equal share after our adventure in that rotten tree trunk and he was already dead.
'...it'll be a lot easier to divide 350 gold by six instead of by ten.' ...yes ...now that's an argument she can't refute. It's just the laws of mathematics.
Valthur turns to deliver his decisive reply only to realize Eoni is no longer walking beside him. Nor is anyone else. He is, in fact, standing still, deep in thought about 30 feet behind the last of the party.
"Hmmmph," he mumbles to himself.
"Don't wait for me. I'll just catch up." He readjusts the sack over his shoulder and scurries to catch up to the group. Once back in the fold, however, he does not pursue his argument with Eoni. Verbal battle is all about timing, and Valthur realizes the time has passed (luckily for her).