Quoted By:
"Um," you say. "Yes! Indeed! It is I— I have returneth from— hello, Branwen." Branwen presses her lips together, which you take as greeting. "I am alive! And quite well, not that you asked! Were you wondering? About me? Where I was?"
"Figured you'd turn up. You're like a fucking cat, or something. Nine lives." Madrigal cracks her shoulders. "Also very noisy. Deposits corpses onto your pillow. Pisses in a box. You get it, right?"
"No?! I do not—" Why did you try to selflessly rescue her? "I do not <span class="mu-i">urinate</span> in a—"
"It's <span class="mu-i">metaphorical.</span> Are you gonna come in, or are you gonna stand there and let all the hot fucking water come in instead?"
"Uh," you say, and stick your arm through and undo the loose door-tie, and then enter.
"Been hearing about you," Branwen says, by way of further greeting(?). She's sat down on a rickety-looking chair, champing at a toothpick, while Madrigal sits cross-legged on her unkempt cot. Madrigal looks worse than you remember, all bony in the wrong places, plus her hair—
"Your hair's long?" you say. (Not long-long. It's up in a ponytail. But before it wasn't even long enough to put in a ponytail.)
"That's a very 'congratulations on narrowly surviving snake mind invasion' to you too. I feel great, by the way."
"Really?"
"Could feel worse," Branwen drawls. Madrigal nods curtly. "Yeah, what she said. Could feel worse. Beats being inside this little fucker." She raises her thumb to reveal a tiny snake clinging to it. "That fucking sucked, by the way, just so you know."
"Uh-huh," you say.
"And the hair's because I haven't chopped it back off yet. Might keep it for a minute, anyways, though, just to... I didn't think it could grow out anymore. Because the water and everything." Madrigal looks faintly embarrassed. "Anyhow. Did you want something? Or were you just advertising your presence? Because you really should go tell your buddy about that— Bug Man. Saw him with Garvin. And, uh, say hello to Monty—"
You fold your arms. "I need Branwen for something. And his name's Gil, <span class="mu-i">not</span> Bug Man, and he's not even made out of bugs right now, so that's just plain—"
"What for."
Branwen's leaning over, toothpick still, which you're going to take as friendly interest. (She's not giving you a lot to go on, okay?) You clear your throat. "Uh... a very important... a task regarding a certain friend of yours, who is in a way incapacitated, currently..."
"Who."
"...Earl?"
Her eyebrows go up. "Toothless's in a ditch? What'd the git do t' himself, go and—"
"Fuck that. What'd <span class="mu-i">you</span> do?" Madrigal demands. "That guy was fucking hale and hearty yesterday, and then you run off with him—"
"He is hale and hearty! He's— he's extremely hale and hearty! Really, hugely—" More than you can describe!
"I'll believe it when I fucking see it. Are you going to check this out, Bran?"
Branwen chews her pick. "Toothless's a good client. Good man."
(2/4)
