As the dwarves see you approach, they quiet down and unsuccessfully try to hide their map. "Oi!" says one, dressed in an aviator's helmet. "The boys and me need your help with a little, um, operation. Y'see, somehow we've gone and gotten ourselves stuck in your head, and we're desperate to claw our way out. By any means necessary, see?" The other dwarves make various assenting noises.
"Right," says the leader, "So I figure that the sooner we can help you find what you're looking for, the sooner we can get on with our master plan to get stinkin' rich. Deal?"
What the hell. It sounds better than waiting around for the next offer to show up.
The leader eyes you expectantly. "Well, lad, I suppose it might be useful if you told us all what you're lookin' for, wouldnnit? Well?"
[ MaxDemian's Automated Defogger ]