"No, sir, not made up at all," Dark replied, pride glimmering in his eyes, "A great, ancient desert, where the sweetest fruits grow miraculously from the sand. I know, for I have been there. And you are correct, sir, an elixir such as this could be sold for prices only affordable by great kings and emperors! Victoria herself would offer the finest jewels across her vast Empire for the merest sip of such a concoction. But," again, he bowed his head, "I am a generous man, and a sentimental one. I do not hail from such a lofty caste, and I only ask for enough to keep my children fed and clothed." Then he held up his vial again, "One silver dollar! Only one silver dollar, or 20 francs, one ducat, an English sovereign!" He tried to think of any other contemporary currency he knew, "10 guilder!" His exchange rate was all wrong, and he knew it.
"Damn, he's good," Cooger murmured to a friend standing near him, before he was sprayed again. Spluttering, he turned around in a half circle, wanting to find who on earth was torturing him thus on his very own birthday! Playing into the bit, he took off his hat and exclaimed, "What in tarnation!"