Virgil listened to the diminutive alien while he stuck some tobacco in his mouth, chewing nonchalantly as Teeruk spoke to him. He seemed a bit on edge. Of course it could be the fact that Virgil (a dangerous looking fellow) had singled him out on this backwater planet out of the millions around them. But he had a good enough grasp of reading people to know that wasn't the case. 'Least, entirely. 

"What [i]do I[/i] want?" The weapon's expert echoed, not being able to help himself with a smile. "That's a loaded question as well. But I suppose renting my services to an employer who needs something done is a good way to put it. 'Course, I don't wait on table or clean your shoes..." 

He rested his hands on one of his pistols, the gesture speaking volumes of exactly what he did. "If you were wanting something wholesome done, you'd be looking into one of the stalls yonder. Seeing as that isn't the case, I assumed. But...you do you. Sorry to bother ya then," Virgil tipped his hat, confident that if he turned away, the Alien would halt him.