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Yeah, yeah, yeah. It was all pretty touching and shit, he accepted her as a part of the family. Whatever. Why the fuck would she want to be accepted as a part of that family, though, Siiga didn't know. Suppose the money was alright, if you didnt mind having to clean the blood off it.

"I can stand on my own, sheesh!" Siiga groaned, trying to push off of Constance. "I told you I'm- Gah, FUCK!"

Maybe just five more minutes then. She rolled her eyes at herself - this was embarrassing! Hurry up and fucking cure, you stupid damn wounds! They were getting in the way of everything!

Wait, what was it the old man said? First of the Allied forces? Oh no. No, no, no. She was not helping these snot nosed, self-entitled, toffee-nosed cunts in their ever expanding quest to fuck everything and everyone seven ways to hell and back. They can shove that for a lark. She had better things to do with her time than run around, being all "Please, milord, thank you, milord" to some asshole who thought he was better than everyone else. Licking boots was not her fucking vocation!

"Yo, hold the fuck up. I don't know what you were expecting, but no one told me I was getting fucking conscripted!" She fumed, not giving to cups of powdered sparrow shit as to how everyone looked at her. "I'm not here to join your goddamn alliance. I'm here because you said I'd get something. So here I fucking am!"

But what? What did she want? Money? She had a small fortune stashed in her hideaway. Power? From this guy? Fuck that. A weapon? She could make them out of thin air, same with armour. Hell, the more she thought about it, the more she realised there wasn't actually anything she really wanted. A cute boy, a warm bed, a cold beer and the night sky was enough for her.

Might as well have some fun with it, right?

"But since you were so kind as to offer, [i]Your Majesty[/i]," Siiga snarked, her voice thick like sarcastic Marmite. "I want... A dick. Not one of those titchy little toothpicky ones either, but like... A third leg, y'know? A big-ass dick that can spray litres over whoever I so choose. If it's not to much for his Royal Highness, of course"

If she could bow without assuring she wouldn't cough up a lung, she would have. It wouldn't stop her smirking like a Cheshire Cat, though

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Bonnie's tail went from blue to green in an instant. The Garda, those malevolent bastards that never listened to a word he said when they caught him with half a loaf of old bread, just straight up turned around and walked away. Why? Because the Lassa said something. His hackles were well and truly raised and he found himself thumbing the hilt of the rusty old knife he had to protect himself with.

But when little miss robotic called him a serf, his grip hardened.

"You what?" He whispered, eyes wide and a voice soft. Distrust, like a firework, exploded in his mind. Who were these two? Why had the Lassa taken such an interest in him? Who did they work for?

This was not happening again. Not this time. Not to these two!

The dagger scraped against the leather as he pulled it out. His tail whipped around to protect him, and he cast a quick spell to prevent them touching him. The stool clattered to the ground as he lept to his feet, keeping his stance wide and low, ready to run at a moments instance.

"I dinnae ken wha sent ye, miss..." He growled. "But ye're gonna have tae go back to yer missus empty handed."

Better safe than sorry.