Yeah, but just call me Beacon.

From Create Your Own Story

You smile a little bit and take his handshake. "Yeah, but just call me Beacon."

"Ah, I see! Beacon, very interesting." He nods quickly, not, in fact, seeming very interested at all. His accent is subdued—you can tell he was well-practiced in talking with non-Russians like yourself. "Come, we will get away from these pesky flies," he says, throwing an ugly look back to the boy you left standing by the ship.

He throws an arm around your shoulder and you walk up the road to the Tourism Bureau building, overlooking the Carribean Sea. You are glad it isn't too far, because the mild tropical warmth has Mr Rezvy's tuned-for-the-cold Russian blood in panic mode; his BO was in full effect.

"Now we talk," he says, letting you go and reaching into his pocket. "I give you five thousand now and the rest when you bring me Mr. Fakirov... in a reasonable state of compliance." He raised his eyebrows at you expectantly and you nod your understanding. "But is important you do bring him to me, yes?"

• Yes, Mr Rezvy, I know.
• Whatever you say.
• [[It's not that important.]]