[goblins are tiny!! and green!!! learn your monster manual, mabes.

Anyway, they are definitely magic, but they are also definitely full of shit. He nods sagely while Jester helps ("helps....") his story along, chains clinking and flashing quietly. Then, he shifts his posture seriously, leaning forward over the table toward Mabel, one finger on his free hand raised in a mocking-not-mocking scolding. Punctuating his words with a sharp gesture at the end that scoops his cards back up off the table.]

Never claim to be maxed out on disaster. That's just asking for something to come along and prove you wrong.

[Ominously and theatrically certain, if quicksilver quipped. As if this serious fate-tempting ought to be obvious and there's no reason to dwell on it. With that out of the way...on to business. Straightening, his snappy showman's manner returns.]

Now! This isn't a charity, of course. But because we're such good friends already, I'll make you a deal. [Was that part of the agreement before? It is now. Too quickly to be refuted—] What've you got to ante up?

[Lets see the goods, Mabel.]