"Meat pies! Karrak onna stick! Sausages! Inna bun! C'mon Guvnor, sticks to your ribs like no other!"
Derek stopped. He'd already been physically assaulted by the Smell of the sewage - er, river, upon entering, had been 'legally' robbed, and had various attempts at mayhem made on him. He whirled to regard the source of the voice behind him, hand going toward the throwing-axe at his hip.
He looked downward, at a small, greasy man in a white hat.1 Beady eyes looked up from above a small, greasy moustache, below which was a large, toothy grin. The grin seemed to falter as the eyes scanned his face, but grew wide again in nothing flat.
"Whaddya say, guv, how about a nice sausage inna bun? Best value in the whole city, or I'm cutting me own throat!"
Just then, the smell of the various food items on the small man's tray struck his nose. Already stunned by the smells of the city so far, this new one sent him reeling backwards before he could stop himself. "Dear Gods!"2 he b