Griffin detested slave markets. They were smelly and loud. Not to mention too crowded. Griffin hated people in his personal space. He woukdnt be here if there was any other way. But he trusted no one. Which meant to get the help he needed. He refused to deal with mercenaries. They couldn't be trust. So a slave was his best option. He kept his wings carefully tucked by Hus body as he weaved through the crowd looking for just the right slave. He was letting his instincts guide him. Finally he stopped in front if a cafe that held what he thought was a demon of some sort. Not that he cared. "I'll take this one."