“You’re not enjoying the D’dôdô-Sette’s recital?”
“About as much as setting fire to my fur, sticking a pole up my bottom and pretending to be a lighthouse! Honestly, he offers no more than insult wrapped in limerick and sold as craft!”
“So you’re not a fan of the D’dôdô-Sette?”
“No, I am not. I cannot abide any creature who wields disrespect as some sort of trophy.” He froze, having not considered that she might.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “I’m no particular fan either.”
“Well, may I ask why you’re in a bar outside the animal’s recital?”
“I could ask you the same.”
“Yes,” he said, “but the difference is that I’m interested in an answer, and judging by your demeanour, you’re not.”
She sighed and stared at the table for a time. “I’m head feature writer for the magazine, Collars Mon
