The little creep has an idea.

A wail of inhuman suffering, louder than the others that you've heard in your time here, goes off, signalling the end of the work. Looking at the clock on his wall, Kiv says, "Oh, is that the time already? My, oh how it- I've got it!" Snapping his fingers happily, he turns back to you. "How about this? I'm going to go meet with a couple of friends of mine, and I think it'd be a great idea if you came along. Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, yes indeed."

You scowl at him. "Your friends... how many of them, and are they all satyrs?"

Twiddling his fingers together, he chuckles to himself. "Oh just three, just three. Myself included, of course. And yes, satyrs all, satyrs all."

"And there's no other way, that I'll get you to sign and stamp the contract?" you hiss, through clenched fangs. His smile goes all the way up to his eyes, and he shakes his head. "...fine." you growl.

"Wondrous, wondrous, oh joy of joys!" he claps, getting off his chair. "You will not regret this, Ms. Selas, no you will not. In fact, as a show of good faith, HAH!" he barks out a laugh, reaching over and grabbing a pen, "I'll just add your little thing there, sign here, and I will stamp it after the party. Fair? Fair. Fair? Fair." Coming around the table, he presents the contract to you, and you give it a quick read. Seeing that what you want is there, you give him a stiff nod.

Folding it carefully, he places it into his breast pocket, and only coming up to your hips, places his hand behind your thigh and motions for you to walk with him. "Excellent, excellent, excellent. We will all have fun together. Much fun. Could you call a car for us? I'll tell the driver where to go." Swallowing your disgust at having this creature's grubby hand on you, you follow a step behind him, but it did not escape your notice that he left something very important on his desk. Invisibly, you command your tail to snag it and secret it about your person.

During the ride over, you're forced to look at the smug little satyr's shit-eating smile as he idly thumbs your contract in his pocket, as if to remind you that he's holding the cards.

He does, but he doesn't have to be a prick about it.