The NPC stares at you. "Hello, traveler. What wares may I sell you?"
You look up, and reply. "I would just like to talk."
"I am an NPC, I have no dignity," says the NPC.
"What? That has nothing to do with the question," you say back.
"Read the AI generated textbox bellow for a better response!" He obliviously states.
You observe closely where the NPC points, and there is no texbox. "What if I'm illiterate?"
"Read the AI generated textbox bellow for a better response!"
You sigh, and do what you must; you quick save. You strike with all your might, and the NPC is knocked down for his final words, and this is what he says: "Ah! I am gravely and intensely injured!" and he stands back up, and fervent wraths boils from your blood as he denies the divine smiting you have enabled upon him. He stares emotionlessly into your soul again, while doing his over-the-top idle animation where he sways half a foot constantly, and mutters one final line. "Hello, traveler. What wares may I sell you?"
Your rage boils like magma, unseen and deep, and you shiver with wrath. "If you really want to sell something, sell me your life!"
"Wise purchase, traveler," he smugly states. "That will be Ninety Novems."