>>6245958
…

You’re half-way through your briefing to the assembled adventurers of the Monstrous Regiment—oh, and Ayla, and the Patmo-Shokan blue-green ‘boglins’, but they’re pretty much honourary members by now—when your sister arrives, with your winged messenger perched upon her new dress’ absurdly-puffy shoulder. As she approaches, Hershy spreads his wings and swoops from her to land upon you, and you give her a glare.

“Cara-Zi, ‘bout time you joined the group.”

“Sorry, ZZ,” she replies with a wince. “And, uh, it’s Carazzi.”

You arch an eyebrow, wondering why she’s saying it like some clueless humie, with a city-slicker accent.

“Carazzi Yosef,” she amends, raising her head high and flashing a wide smile, as if that explains everything.

“…Right,” you reply, because it sure as shit doesn’t.

(You’d bet money this is Ayla’s doing somehow, though.)

“Anyway,” you continue, “whoever-the-fuck you are, I was just giving everyone here the run-down on this gig… This gig YOU signed us up for.”

“Y-yeah.” CZ titters nervously, looking to the assembled Regiment, then at you, then down at the ground. “Sorry, ZZ. I know I shouldn’t a’ done that without, like, askin’, since yer the Boss ‘n all.”

You sigh through your nose, unable to maintain your mad face when your doppelganger looks this downbeat. You wave your hand in a gesture of dismissal.

“Forget it,” you say. “What’s done is done, an’ it ain’t like we don’t need the work. Point is, YOU took the job from this Eastman. Seems ta me YOU ought to be tellin’ us what’s what.”

“Oh!”

Cara-Zi—or ‘Carazzi Yosef’, you guess??—stands straight once more, and hurries to your side.