“Oh, for heaven’s… sir! That is… I mean, Ssskidwish! Ssskidwish, present yourself immediately!”
“Whaddaya want, Lieutenant?”
“Ahem… sir. We’re in public now. Ixnay on the iplay. I’m the social superior now, remember?”
“Ah, right, right… (ahem). 'Ow might I be o’service today, your lizardship?”
[whispering] “Sir, I think we might have miscalculated a bit. I thought it a sure bet that we’d maximize our investment by infiltrating society in the role of fetching and innocent heiress (that’s me) and sharp-eyed but utterly-beneath-notice loyal old retainer (that’s you).”
“O’ course you thought it a sure bet. I thought it up, I did, didn’t I?”
“Indeed, sir, indeed… and yet cast your eye upon this morning’s broadsheet.”
“Nice price for sandfish in the market, I must say…”
“No, sir, above that.”
“…”
“Do you see the society column?”
“Er… yes…”
“Ms. Applethwaite’s salon?”
“Aye, that I do…”
“Sir, was that you?”
“Well… 'ard to tell, lieutenant, it was hours ago…”
“Sir, did you just out yourself to the entire high society of Weatherby by making a drunken fool of yourself at one of the highest-profile salons on the planet?”
“Mightn’t have been me. There’s no name mentioned…”
“Sir, what are we to do?! Their wind will be up! There’s no mention of an arrest, a scuffle, an escape, or any devouring of the miscreant, so whether or not it was you, everyone’s going to be keeping a sharp eye out for a rough-edged Space Lizard with a trick cloaca and a somewhat gamey aroma! The game is up!”
“Well, don’t hang all the blame on me, lieutenant! I told you I should play the ingenue, and you portray the servant, but for some reason you found that concept utterly risible.”
“Sir, there’s only one thing for it. Since you can’t be trusted to be the face of this operation, I’m going to have to make you my ward.”
“Your… your ward?”
“Yes.”
“…what’s that, then?”
“They’ll be looking for a foul-mouthed lizard of the second or third class. They won’t be looking for an underage pretender.”
“Lieutenant Gilligan, this time you’re going too far…!”
“You force my hand, sir! Now don this bonnet, put on my second-best frock, and as you value our lives, make no further sound or action except in the persona of Miss Ssskidwish, my third cousin once removed.”
“Miss Ssskidwish?!”
“This is your fault, sir, don’t pretend it isn’t. I’ve been wearing a dress all week; I assure you you’ll find it comfortable and convenient. Your cloaca will have never been freer.”
“I highly doubt that, Lieutenant.”
“Oh, one last thing. I know this might hurt a bit, but I fortunately happened to bring along these pliers just in case of emergency…”
scufflescufflebangwrenchpopyelpscufflewrenchpopyipe!
“Ow, that thmartth, you inthubordinate thun of a motherleth thkink!”
“I am sorry, sir, but it needed to be done!”
“You… you pulled out my fangth! My venom-fangth are… Herpeton take you, I haven’t lithped in two thenturieth, and now I thound like an unblooded teenager! Thith ith intolerable! You’ve rendered me defenthleth! What if thomeone challengeth me to a fang-duel?”
“That won’t be an issue on Weatherby, sir. We won’t be needing your martial skill, at least not yet. For now, we need to assimilate into society and rise like the cream we know ourselves not to be.”
“How am I thuppothed to aththimilate if I’m thpitting all over everyone with every third word I thay?”
“For now, try to keep your mouth shut, at least until the bleeding stops. You’re making me feel quite queasy.”
“Oh, lieutenant, you’re going to pay for thith. At the very leatht I’m going to butht you down to enthign, onthe we get our thip back.”
“One last adjustment, sir. You’re going to need to raise your voice an octave or so. You know, to pass as a young girl.”
[falsetto] “What, like thith?”
“That’ll do, thank you.”
“What in hell for?”
“Because we need to marry you off, and the sweeter and more innocent we can sell you, the higher price you’ll fetch.”
“Why the hell aren’t we thelling you off, you thtripling amphibian?”
“We already paid the bribes and obtained the credentials; you said so yourself, sir. Can’t go back to Bartlebot now. You’ve simply gotta pass as the young and fetching and well-cultured Ssskidwish, sleek of limb, dewy of dewclaw, moist of scale, and prim of cloaca.”
“Well, that’th uth doomed, then.”
“I’d be lying if I said I thought well of our chances, sir. Nevertheless, here we are.”
“Indeed. Well, then, couthin… shall we thally forth onto the promenade and find what fortune we may?”
“Off we go, then.”
“Betht thing we have going for uth ith your Pertheption, Couthin Carthy. Thould help uth maintain thith detheption ath well ath could be dethired.”
“One can only hope, cousin Ssskidwish.”
“You’re right about the dreth, though. My cloaca hathn’t felt thith free in yearth.”