Moneybags was one of the most despicable creatures in Avalar, if you asked Elora.
He was gentlemanly enough, of course. But there was something in that smug, self-assured grin, and poisoned honey-tone. His eyes were dishonest, and his words deceptive.
Elora did not like the Ursanine. Nor did most of the decent creatures in Avalar. Hunter even claimed that the salesman set off his 'creepy crawly cat feeling.'
So she was understandably upset to see him chatting up with the professor.
"Ah, Elora," he said in a hospitable tone. "So Nice to see you again. The professor was just telling me how you knew so much about magic in our world."
Elora but back a frustrated groan; while intelligent in the scientific arts, and something of a father figure to her, he really was dense sometimes.
"Oh yes," the professor said in a creaky warble. "Moneybags here was just asking about the nature of fodder butterflies - I merely told him that that was out of my field of knowledge. I do know that they're considered magic entities - but, you know better about them than I, my dear."
"Of course, Professor," she said, swallowing. Elora glanced at Moneybags; his grin felt too sharp, wicked even, like a Riptoc with its teeth sunk into a turtle.
She could end the conversation there, choose not to answer. But she knew that to Moneybags everything had a price - and with how he oh-so-casually leaned against the wall, and spoke charmingly with the Professor, she could guess what he knew she valued.
So, with an air of fake politeness, she answered his unspoken questions.
"Fodder Butterflies are most definitely considered magic entities - unlike lowerclass, like myself being a Faun, or upperclass, like Dragons and Dragonflies, they're somewhere in-between. Their pure form is the Butterfly, though they can't sustain the energy to maintain it for long. Instead, they revert to lower-energy 'fodder' forms - creatures like sheep and frogs and bugs. Small, unintelligent things that mimic sentient creatures. If this form breaks, they revert to their pure form until they can settle down and rid themselves of agitation in order to turn back into a fodder form."
Elora finished speaking, feeling warmth at the pride wreathing the Professor's face. But it instantly turned to a consuming chill when she heard Moneybags' slow clapping.
"Well done my dear; very informative indeed. Like a school teacher, if you'll forgive me saying so." Though his canines were no more threatening than Hunter's, the smile that showed them was much, much more dangerous. "Now, if you can forgive such an asinine question, where do they come from, exactly? Do they breed like most other creatures? Grow like plants? I'm most curious you know."
Mouth dry, she couldn't help but blurt out, "Why?"
She snapped her mouth shut just as soon, feeling panicked. She hated Moneybags, she really did, but like hell she would get on his bad side. She knew he was more than he seemed. Dare she say, downright shady. But she didn't want to find out whatever consequences he was willing to dish out.
He didn't bat an eye, luckily. Merely smiled Eerily charmingly. "Why, dear, I love butterflies! Monarchs are my favourite you know; regally draped in gold and orange. Though Whimsy Silks are a close second. Why, I can't even begin to tell you about. . ."
And even though his answer seemed honest, and his story sincere, Elora couldn't help but feel like answering him was giving away something of high value.
And with a cost of high consequence.