[ Emet-Selch's expression breaks into a faint smile and he lightly snickers at the answer. The price of their soul, is it? His reply brings with it the same touch of amusement. ]

Oh? My condolences for the paltry choice of souls thrust upon you. You know what they say: [ He rolls his wrist through the air. ] Beggers, choosers, and the like.

[ And he sips his wine as if nothing is amiss. ]

And what do you intend on doing with the souls that are pledged to you?