"That way?" Citan pointed off in the indicated direction, startled, and gave it a closer look. Then he laughed. "I see! I have not been in Rabanastre for terribly long, so I still turn around and find myself lost.

"I--ah?--" The money that Snow put in his hand felt heavier than it should have. He made a noise that sounded like a half-formed protest, but the man was already off to another stall. Citan looked down at the gil, then pocketed it somewhat reluctantly. "Thank you," he murmured despite the fact that his benefactor was long out of earshot. He wouldn't refuse Snow's kindness--that would be an insult.

He began to hunt one-handedly through the produce in search of replacements for the food that had been ruined, weighing things and checking them over for bruises. His attention, however, wasn't entirely on shopping. "As to the killings," he said to Gabranth, "there have been a string of them this week, and several just last night. Everyone has his pet theories, of course, but they all sound very...brutal."