"Come on, let's get out of here. We're wasting our time."
One of three hulking figures knocked on the door again. "Shut up," he said. "Unless you're going to use that voice of yours to sing for us."
The owner of the first voice furrowed his prodigious brow, then opened his mouth, which was promptly covered by a meaty palm. "That was sarcasm. Don't start singing."
At that moment, the door swung away. Another huge man, similar to the others, stood in its place. He made a pronouncement.
"What."
The three stared at each other, daring each other to be the first to speak.
"Uh, we've been thinkin', among ourselves, that uh, well, you, we..."
A raised eyebrow. The second man muscled ahead of his friend. "We're kicking you out of the Trollskins. You ain't showed up to our last three gigs and we ain't gettin' paid."
"Now, waitaminute, let's not be hasty or nothin'. Without Treb we won't get any more work than we're getting now."
"No way! I'm sick of pullin' his weight. He's out, or I'm out. And I've at least plucked a string in the last month."
'Treb' looked back and forth between the two, waiting for them to stop arguing. Eventually they did, and remembering why they came here in the first place, looked up at him again. He slowly opened his mouth to make another rare decree.
"You guys got pretty good timing. I'm leaving town. Tired of this crap. Have a nice life. Don't get yourselves lynched."
Two of them wore expressions of mixed shock and relief. The other laughed uproariously. "Just proves what I said! You couldn't take it! You're not cut out to make it big! You're a little...bitty..." He muttered for a while, trying to think of a suitable insult. While he was distracted, a huge fist swung towards his head.
Two of the men ran away as the door slammed shut; the third lay in the gutter, moaning.
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