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His eyes grow just a bit wider, and though he struggles to stop it, he draws in a quick breath at the thought. He's no interest in taking Gwen anywhere! But oh, he's enough pride for three men, being young enough that his pride is worth far more to him than any other coin, and he sits just a bit straighter in response to the thief's wry tone. "Aye," he says, just a touch sharply, skin already crawling at the thought. What a way to confront his fears! He'd rather have a fight than this, even injured! "Grave-minders is worth plenty to them that'll buy. It good enough to meet you in the stables out back?" He's not got the comfort of being able to shunt glances away, and wants to be somewhere they won't immediately be seen -- but a shout can still be heard in the tavern from the stable, and draw immediate attention.

Oh, this is bad. This is bad. This is bad. Even Friedrich can already see that this is bad, but it's too late to back out now. He gets goosebumps at the sound of Gwen's unhappy whine, but reaches out to take her nonetheless. Hands carefully around her middle, he knows enough to try and turn her around so that all the pointy bits are facing out, but even Reese can probably already tell that one way or another this isn't going to end well for the poor bugger. " .. twenty minutes. Have a feeling she ain't going to leave me wanting to dawdle." His voice is light, as if he finds this whole spectacle to be amusing, even though it stopped being amusing oh, about thirty seconds ago. After that he's going to want to leave the tavern practically at a run, hoping that he can get out of sight before the animal starts fighting -- he's half a mind to strip off his shirt and bundle her up in it. Next time his brother suggests they flip a coin to see who goes in town, he's going to pick the gods-be-damned coin!

The fool lad grits his teeth when Gwen's claws dig in, and he holds her as tight as he thinks he can bear, walking quickly out the door with a look that says he knows he's a doomed man the instant he's out of sight of Reese. And so it proves ..

The fellow who shows up at the stable a bit over twenty minutes later, however, is neither scratched nor bitten, and wears the same amiable expression which the other had first worn when he'd approached Reese in the tavern. It may strike Reese as peculiar or even uncanny unless he's heard of the twins, for this young man is alike the first in every way save his manner and his lack of open wounds. He's the bandage over one shoulder and a gash sewn up on his forehead, and wears the same sort of homespun clothing.

At his feet he places a heavy leather saddle-bag, the only thing in their possession that'd been strong enough to hold a hissing, spitting, clawing demon.

"Hoy, mate!" The Friedrich shows no sign of interest in opening the bag -- he intends to hand it over as is when it's time -- but greets Reese with a cheeky grin. "Betcha thought I couldn't do it, eh? Got a nasty temper to it, but I handled just fine. Still minded to make a trade?" He can't seem to hold in his good mood, which may be a mixture of smug triumph and the usual joy he gets out of fooling the unsuspecting. The dagger will catch his eyes, its spinning path closely followed, and the thief may even catch a gleam of admiration in the muddled brown. No help for it; he's a drab hand with a knife, and that calls for respect in the parts of town that Fred's from.

"Ain't no cause." His shoulders lift and fall in a careless little shrug, dismissing even the possibility. "Don't much fancy there being bad blood between us. Man never knows when he might need a .. friend." Head tilted, his gaze becomes sharp. He might well have said 'theif' instead of 'friend,' since it's almost a given that that's what he'd meant. If Reese hasn't caught on to who he's dealing with exactly, the fact that they were able to discover the crime and determine at least some facts of his identity (that he worked alone save for the company of a 'graveminder' cat) means that these two are already heavily involved in criminal enterprises. That they might have interest in hiring a thief is not beyond comprehension.

"Even managed a little bit extra, in case extra glim might help you forget we met like we did, eh? Maybe if somebody asks, you kin say you stole it for us in first place." Now his gaze is level, holding steadily onto Reese: this whole situation, with the two of them running like mad after him, is -- frankly -- embarrassing.

Since this untruth suits the Freds just fine -- it wasn't that Reese stole it out from under their noses, it was just bad luck that he happened to purchase it from the person they were going to steal it from -- the other man only nods agreeably in the face of this matter-of-fact lie. Sure, why not? Turning the conversation back to their actual exchange wakes him up a little, as he regards the treacherous saddlebag with vague concern. Is there a way to direct the opening towards Reese? Any way at all to do this without being mauled?

But of course there is pride to consider, and he is no more above that emotion than his brother was, even if he is not nearly as frightened of the little beast. His sigh is all internal, but his shoulders do hunch as he crouches down to try and carefully fumble with the flap on the saddle bag. Gwen may get a chance or two to stick a paw out for a qiuck lashing before he sets the whole thing on its side, directed towards Reese, and then opens it with a quick shove forward.

He flinches at the terrible, awful sounds that Gwen makes, and if he didn't personally get mauled that doesn't mean that a creature making similar sounds won't appear in one of his nightmares -- but he manages to maintain his composure better than his brother had. There's even a flicker of admiration as he realizes that Gwen must have dug her claws in on the way up to Reese's shoulder, and the other man hasn't so much as twitched.

The announcement makes him blink .. and then flash a sudden grin. He doesn't seem to mind being caught out; it wasn't like they were really playing, anyway. If they'd really been playing, then Reese would never have been able to guess! "No arguments here. We'd just as soon not see any grimalkins for the next ten years or so."

There isn't just one pouch; there's three smaller ones, but First will pour them out into his hand to show Reese that every coin is present. He'll step close to make the actual trade, though he keeps one watchful eye on Gwen, just in case she decides that him being in an arm's length means that he's also within reach for a pounce.

First offers out the little bags of coins, ready to take the dagger from Reese as calmly as he can manage -- he won't snatch it or yank it out of Reese's hands. He just takes it neatly from him, as if this is a trade they'd been planning on making since Reese executed his clever theft of the weapon. He still keeps one eye on Gwen, even more so than he notices that the thief's been hurt himself; if she'll do that to her own hedge witch, what'll she do to him?

" .. hells," he mutters. "If you go back to the tavern then, I'll see that there's a dish of cream for her." For all the good that'll do; if it isn't First that gives it to her, how's she to know it's from him? But First acts like he thinks she's some spirit that has to be appeased to grant him forgiveness, somehow. "And anytime you happen back into the city, stop by Two Drums, we'll keep cream on hand for her." In addition to -- just possibly -- a job for Reese himself.