"Right, I forgot, you don't have the traditional moral center that considers things like assault and stalking apology-worthy. I should really be used to that. But you know what, that works, because I don't care. It's not actually my job to think about your shit, and I don't really care whether you join a caravan or fly back home, having been thoroughly disillusioned by human society or whatever you're sulking about." Sparta was dragging the Cheese-bag of Infinite Trouble into a pile with his other things, which were getting strapped onto what was essentially a bizarre cross between a kid's wagon and a sled.
Sparta snorted with laughter. "Okay, I get that like, dragons don't understand the whole precious metals and gems things, or have giant hordes or whatever, but there has to be a limit to how stupid this gets. No, I very obviously don't have a pile of gold. I would not need to beg for cheese if I had a fucking pile of gold, or even a single fucking coin! Do you know how much one gold coin is? No, of course you don't. I'll use simple concepts. No. I don't have gold. I am what is known as a hermit. I live outside of society. I don't have currency or an extensive number of valuables. I have literally nothing for you here, in fact, and I can't express with words how much I don't want any extra immortal stalkers in my life. The part of our lives that overlap need to end now, and stay that way, forever, thanks. Bye."