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“Mary..” Nyxvira called over her shoulder at the Ogre, as she gazed down at the furious explosion of festivities from her golden throne “Do you prefer red or black leather?” 

“More of a latex man, myself,” Marius grumbled “Why do you ask, Miss?” 

“I’m thinking of getting some new furniture.” She said, simply, her eyes fixed on a scantily clad acrobat who was gracefully swinging across the arena on some trapeze “Wasn’t sure if I should go for red or black leather chairs.” 

“Now, I’m no decorator, Miss Bloodbloom,” Marius grunted, adjusting his tie “But I’d have to suggest the black.” 

Her curiosity was piqued 

“Why?” 

“The way I sees it,” he rumbled in his deep voice “Black creates an atmosphere of class and luxury, but also ‘olds suggestions of darkness and death; perfect for subtle intimidation, like.” 

“I didn’t realize you had such an analytical mind.” Nyxvira laughed, a slither of a smirk slipping across her full lips. 

“I read a book by this Doctah Simondis bloke,” He explained “called ‘The art of the negligible’; talks about subtle, mental manipulation.” 

“Fascinating.” Nyxvira giggled playfully, sending ripples through her sprawling belly “I would never have pegged you as the intellectual type.” 

“Folks dun think ogres can be smart, Miss Bloodbloom,” Marius gave a rolling shrug of his broad shoulders “appearances can be deceivin’, like. People wouldn’t think that an ogre can be smart, or a Goblin can be honest, or a junkie could be caring, or a monstah’ could be hidin’ inside a little pale man’s ‘ead. But just cause someone dun look dangerous, dun mean they aren’t dangerous, Miss Bloodbloom.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Mary.” said the obese Faerie, who also happened to be the most powerful person in Santa Somabra, with a wicked grin. 

Then Grezbill came wandering up the steps. 

“Ehrmmm...Madam?” He squawked, from somewhere behind her throne.

Nyxie’s eyes narrowed into slits. She hadn't sent for Grezbill, and any information he could’ve had for her would have reached her through other channels long before he did, which meant he was here out of his own tuition. Interesting. The Goblin had never come to her without bringing matters of interest to her attention before. 

“What is it, Grezbill?” She asked dryly, an irritated groan ebbing at her voice. 

“The weaponsmith that Miss Vigilance was sent to watch over is on the premises. He’d like an audience.” 

Nyxie frowned. “Grezbill, come here.” 

The goblin padded slowly towards her throne, with Marius closing in behind him. 

Once he was close enough, Nyxvira’s fat hand shot forwards, closing in around the goblin’s windpipe. 

“Listen here, you little shit stain,” she hissed “you -DO NOT- bring curiosities to my -VERY IMPORTANT- gatherings, do you understand?” 

Grezbill gasped and wheezed, as the Faerie’s grip tightened around his neck. 

“This event has been -MONTHS- in preparation, and I don’t need you fucking it up by dragging in sewer trash. You are -VERY- lucky that the current situation prevents me from disciplining you without threatening the jovial atmosphere.” 

She released her hold, letting the scrawny green creature tumble to his knees, coughing and spluttering as he gulped down huge mouthfuls of air.

“Show the weaponsmith in, then show yourself out.” She commanded the goblin, shooting him one last withering glance. 

“And pick me up some black leather chairs for the penthouse!” She shouted back over her shoulder, as he scurried away.