Louse (before battle)
True to Saude's prediction, every pawnbroker was busy closing their shops to avoid getting roped into trouble.
Ey! You bastards! Don't you dare take another step!
Ya think ya can mess with our family and just walk away, huh, tiny fave?
What is it with these Syndicates and their "family" nonsense? Is that really their best attempt at inspiring some misplaced camaraderie?
Look at that swelling you put on our precious young'un's head!
……
For goodness sake… This is going completely off-script...
Effie presses a hand to his head as though he were getting a really bad migraine.
I had half a mind to suggest that he keep some painkillers on hand if a contingency like this was all it took to give him a migraine, but thought better of it.
With no head of my own, the jab wouldn't have hit home - much less been heard.
You two, you thought we were good-for-nothing lice all along, didn't you?
You've been looking at us as if we were lumps of filth and waste clogging the sewers!
I don't think anyone spoke of us that harshly, Outis...
Have you never wondered why we, the Bus Team, were entrusted with the momentous task of claiming the Golden Boughs?
A-and why is that... uh, ma'am?
Even Effie seemed taken aback by Outis's imposing attitude.
While I don't disagree that these others are worthless refuse, soaked through head-to-toe in sewage, figuratively speaking...
No, seriously, you're the only one who thinks that...
M-Miss Outis, you've thought of us like that this whole time...?
Never once have I tasted defeat. And our Executive Manager here has the power to restore us from death itself, making us practically immortal.
To be frank, just the two of us would be sufficient as the Bus Team - though that conniving weasel Vergilius seems to think otherwise.
The point is, no matter how many fights these pieces of detritus are thrown into, they won't be worn down - they'll keep coming back as the same piles of trash they were before dying.
*sigh*
That sure is an impressively motivating way to tell us you think we're all living, breathing pieces of garbage.
... Morons.
Hostiles incoming. Orders, Executive Manager?