Status Symbol
In a lovely world similar to our own circa 1800s, the empire of Britannia has so graciously allowed the land of Feranya to remain "independent". So long as they keep the trade lanes open, favor Britannian trade, and accept a Magistrate to serve on their Council of Nomarchs, we can avoid all those pesky issues with blowing the felines to smithereens.
Young Mortimer Pendleton is the new Magistrate, by way of nepotism, and while he is glad to get out of the stuffy Britannian courts, he's not entirely sure about this land of catlike creatures. Don't worry, Mortimer. We'll make sure you fit in.
Done for skiesofsilver's STATUS SHIFT contest at a balmy 5360 words(It was a Runner-Up!). That said, this is also a DRAMATIC TEASER. I am working on making a proper BOOK of this sort of short-story style longer form TF fiction. Are you interested in an entire book of stories like these? Let me know your thoughts in the comments.
To my dear son, Mortimer Pendleton,
I am pleased to inform you that the negotiations with the court have gone well. Your new position as magistrate of the Feranya colony has been approved, expedited I should say. It really did not have much trouble at all, for they are quite fond of you there and are eager to see you in action. I do apologize for having your first stint of rule be off in the backwaters, but the felines of the colony should treat you with great respect and care. Should they not, you can simply remind them of who is writing their checks.
Do make sure to write. I know it is a stressful office, but one more letter a week won't hurt you. We are cheering for your good fortune.
Sincerely,
Duke Bartemius Pendleton, H.R.Empire of Brittania
Well! That was lovely, thought Mortimer as he crumpled the little note up. Father meant well, but his tact really needed some work. It was probably for the best though; out here in the tropics, such parental ninnyammering would be reduced to occasional letters that could be crumpled at will. A pleasing freedom, even if it was a tad muggy.
The city of Feranya was visible now, after the long days at sea. Steamships were terrible things, he thought, and the sooner he could be free of them the better. Twas not the sort of life for him, though he was also not sure being a local figurehead was the life for him either. That choice wasn't his, and wouldn't be for a very, very long time. He gazed upon the sandy stone edifices of the massive port town, and pondered just how much of a mess it would be upon his arrival.
Feranya was not a country, per se, but as it was the only major city in the Ferian lands it tended to get an outsized bit of attention. The farms along the delta sold their crops here, the mines brought strange ores and glowing crystals up to the docks, and the empire gladly drank its fill. To hear the nobles talk, the felines were a crude and stupid race that needed to be uplifted by their Noble Insight, but Mortimer had the feeling that they were much the same as all the other folk he'd met in his life, and probably had less of a stick up their asses.
Still, ensuring that trade continued was not an idle task, and the Empire had made it clear on more than one occasion that it was a Very Good Idea to keep things going smoothly. They did not 'invade', per se, but they did sail their warships around and twirl their guns and remark idly about how it would be such a shame if such a lovely town were blown to smithereens. The locals got the hint, and were "more than eager" to accept a magistrate as a condition for continued peace. Mortimer spat, yet where it fell no longer mattered. Any action by him was law, and the locals would have to deal with it. Hopefully they could keep it at that.
"And there he is! Fresh from Britannia."
Mortimer looked up, ascertaining the cry to be from a group of felines on the docks. They were... underdressed by his definition of the word, though perhaps he was overdressed for this weather. He could see the differences in the pack; the ones at the back were slightly more bent, a little less refined in their gait and posture. But the one in front! Her ears curved artistically upwards, her smile was deep and glistening, and her striped tail swished gently in time with the wind. While the fabrics of her dress seemed to avoid the chest area, a large pendant took its place. Inlaid with jade, the structure a sturdy copper, emblazoned like the sun(if the sun had only 8 spokes to it). He'd never seen its like, the jewelry or its owner, and he tipped his head in greeting as he found land once more.
"Yes. Mortimer Pendleton." He held out a hand to shake, and she grasped it with a firmness that was shocking from such a slender lady.
"Admarya of Feranya. The head nomarch is dealing with a minor issue right now, and apologizes. Regardless, I shall be your voice and support on the council henceforth, so perhaps it is alright to meet with me instead." "Of course! I am honored to make your acquaintance." She bowed slightly, and took off the necklace. "For you." "What... is this?" "A symbol of status, the marking of a ruler of Feranya. You might see that the nomarch's council has more... permanent methods of displaying it." Indeed, even as she took it off, Mortimer saw that the same symbol was colored on her chest fur, almost like a tattoo. "Still, there is no need to indulge in such markings if you do not wish it, and this will suffice so that all who see you know of your position." "I thank you, for the gift." He put it on, and marveled at how... light it felt, despite being larger than his entire palm. Father would have found it ridiculous, but he wasn't here, now was he.
"The manor is this way. Shall we?" "After you, milady."
The manor was indeed spacious, and quite different from the stuffy sorts of places Mortimer had lived in back home. Whereas those homes had been intended as works of art, here the felines really seemed to understand the concept that home was to be relaxed in. The chairs were more like supports for large squishy cushions, the kitchen was made to minimize work rather than maximize output, and the whole place demanded that one lounge around.
Mortimer lay back on one of the cushions while he awaited his luggage from the boat. The little amulet glinted a bit, and he fingered it idly. A strange thing, but it really did seem to take in the heat of the sun and provide a nice gentle warmth. Perhaps that was the original intent, before it became propped up as a symbol of status.
He slowly became aware of eyes, however. Searing, probing eyes, coming from... below? A small feline girl, in the colorful sort of dress that marked the nobility around here. Her tail poked upwards as she stared intently.
"Oh! Hello." "...why don't you have a tail?" "Um... humans don't have tails." "Huh. That's sad." "Why is that?" "Because tails are your friend. They feel what you feel, and say what you say, and you don't need to be lonely if you have a tail." "I... guess?" Debating rhyming philosophy with a child wasn't his strong suit, and he wasn't entirely sure he understood what the little one was getting at. Perhaps he did look Odd to the locals, a strange curiosity to be stared at. He didn't like the feeling, and the shivers tickled his spine.
"Marla. Don't tease the magistrate." Admarya was back, shooing the child away. "I was just lookin." "And being nosey. It's his first day here, we want to make him comfortable." "Maybe he needs a tail! That would make him comfortable."
Mortimer chuckled a little, but noted that Admarya didn't actually tell the child off for such a thing. He watched as the larger cat shooed the smaller one away, a prospect she only reluctantly embraced. You really could see their emotions in the tails, he thought, seeing how stiff and displeased Marla's became during the shoving.
"Don't mind her. She's just not used to seeing humans." "Are they... not that common here?" "Oh we get our share. They mostly keep by the docks though, and Marla isn't much one for the water."
Mortimer wondered whether that was a cat thing. He discarded the notion a bit, reminding himself that Feranya was one of the largest ports in the world. The only time the felines had gotten together to make a city, and it was done in the interest of mastering the waves, ensuring that they never had to get wet if they didn't want to.
Hmm... maybe it Was a cat thing after all.
"In any case, there is to be a meeting of the council of Nomarchs tomorrow. You are certainly welcome to attend, though I understand if you need more time to settle in." "No, that's quite alright. It wouldn't do to miss out." "Then I'll let them know. We'll look forward to it."
He kept staring as Admarya left, watching the gentle sway of her hips and the tail, how the breeze just caught the fur a little bit. Mortimer shook his head, trying to wonder why he was... fixating so much. It was indeed odd, but it certainly wasn't a Bad odd to look at. Pleasing on the eyes, and with maybe just a touch of envy.
Dear Father,
Feranya has been very accommodating of my presence, and I dare say you would enjoy it here. While it does not quite have the same level of progress as Britannia might, there is a certain luxury about the manor that is quite appealing. They are, as I suspected, not much different from you or I, so long as one keeps an open mind about things.
You had asked over dinner once how the 'felines' ruled, since you only knew that it was different from our own ways. They appear to have a 'Council of Nomarchs', 8 representatives chosen partly from noble lineage, but also from past contribution to the state's well being. This has, obviously, been disrupted with our imposition of the position of Magistrate. As it stands though, they are amenable to the prospect of the Magistrate serving as a Councilor of trade. They too enjoy the fruits of access to the empire, though I must say I do not look forward to eventual disagreements on culture and local rule. Government only runs smoothly until it does not, as you often say.
I shall update you further after the next council meeting, though I do not expect much trouble. Sincerely,
Magistrate Mortimer Pendleton, H.R.Empire of Brittania
Mortimer awoke far more rested than usual, and as he gave a peaceful yawn, the bed seemed to call to him. Stay here, where it is squishy and soft. He did not know what a burrito was, but by goodness he had become one inside the blankets.
The sun was insistent though, and he did have work to do. Another yawn, and a deep back popping stretch with the hands nice and forward. He felt a bit silly doing it, but some deep part of his brain assured him that it was important. There was food to be found, clothes to be put on, and cats to herd. He even got the order right, somehow.
"Good morning, sir." "Good morning Admarya." Mortimer thought it a tad... odd that Admarya also lived in the manor, but he didn't really mind. The view was nice, in any case.
"You're looking well today." "Feeling well, better at least. Boats and I just don't agree." "I think that's most people."
The path to the council chambers was impressive, Mortimer thought, or at least it seemed designed to evoke that sort of opinion. Gilded archways covered in tropical plants, wide benches and open air to give berth to the intricate mosaics on the walkway. The doors were made of a wood he could not quite place, deep yellow with a reddish stain, carved with twin felines holding their symbol of status aloft.
The chambers themselves were centered around a dome, 10 councilors in a circular fashion with a small gallery that was quite empty at the moment. Not all discussions were held openly, though Mortimer was glad for that. Little bits of stage fright emerged as he took his seat, noting that the table had become a little more cramped than it should have been with his addition.
The councilors seemed to run the gamut, as far as cats went. Various colors and breeds, some elderly and cranky, others spry and youthful. He found it odd that the females seemed to be leading the council, though perhaps that was just the way of things here. They might find Britannia's male-centric politics odd as well, he reminded himself.
"And thus we welcome our... Magistrate from Britannia, Sir Mortimer Pendleton." Mortimer snapped back into the present, nodding in what he hoped was a pleasant gesture. "Apologies if I seem a bit quiet today. I find it is best to learn by listening, and study of your land can only do so much." "That is quite alright, Magistrate. To be frank, we were concerned that your post might be filled with one... less open to our ways." The abyssinian next to the speaker seemed ready to say something crude, but stopped himself short. Perhaps not, in such... esteemed company.
"Regardless, we are glad that you seek to join us, and hope that in time we will all come to a better understanding of each other."
Mortimer hadn't heard so many empty words in one sentence since... Parliament back home. Some things don't change, do they?
He sat back, listening to the councilors speak on matters of dispute within the city, various agricultural flummoxes... it all blurred together in his head. His ears itched awkwardly, and he wasn't entirely sure whether scratching them was appropriate. The seat also seemed a tad awkward, always pressing on his tailbone no matter which way he... ah, there. Leaning forward slightly like the others seemed to help. Mortimer wasn't sure... why, but it didn't rate highly on his list of things to pay attention to.
Yawning and stretching after the long meeting, he made to return to his chambers. Something about the whole climate was making him feel sleepy, like he was still draped in fuzzy blankets and had never really gotten out of bed at all. Admarya helped him to his bed, seemingly unconcerned by the bout of fatigue, and wished him a good rest. He did the same to her, too addled to really comprehend that she was not in the sleeping mood. So many thoughts, so many bits of information about Feranya to process, and his mind spun.
It was morning, somehow, and while he felt well rested, Mortimer wondered where the night had gone. He stretched his arms, waggled his ears, flexed his claws, and...
...
The birds flew away, fleeing the dreaded screechmonster! They knew not what it was, but it sounded like a cat trying to scream and gargle at the same time, and that meant trouble.
Mortimer dashed to the bathroom, quickly remembered that he was Not in his Britannian manor, and then went to figure out where the bathroom was again. Where... there! That looks... yes. No! That doesn't look at all right!
There, in the mirror! Where there should have been a small, rounded nose, there was a flat pink thing that wiggled when he snuffled. Where his ears should have stuck out dorkily, they rose in a majestic fluffy curve atop his head. Where his eyes should have been brown, they gleamed with a glint of yellow. Something insistent kept brushing at his butt, and it took a few tries before it got his attention. WHAT. Can't you see that I'm... I'm...
...busy.
It was a tail, his tail, not quite properly grown. A foot long, or maybe a few inches more. A nice light brown, with the yellow stripes, and it swished and swayed alluringly. But it was his, on him, and that was not supposed to be. When he turned, it turned, and when he ran away screaming, it followed in his wake.
"Goodness you're a riot today." "Admaryaaaa... what IS this?!" He turned, threw out his arms in the doorway, gesticulating. She looked, staring with an impressed gaze. Down, further... oh. No pants.
...I'll be right back.
There! The tail didn't quite fit, making this even more awkward just... get in the stupid sleeve you little... thing...
"Are you having fun?" "NO! I... why am I..." "Shhh..."
She had entered. Slipped behind him, given him a gentle hug. Her hands clasped around his chest in a way that made him feel... small. Certainly light, less the man than he was yesterday. Her furred hands with clawed fingers gently pulled him in until it was alright, though he couldn't help but fearing that his own hands would look much like that.
"You look quite fine." "I... don't feel fine!" He felt feline, but that was neither here nor there. "Do you?"
He shivered, but it was a good, freeing shiver. He... did feel nice, come to think of it. Loose and limber, a gentle warmth inside like basking in the sun. But it wasn't him wasn't... how he was supposed to be...
"I'm a human..." "You are a Magistrate of Feranya. The laws are quite clear, and we made it known to your government, that only felines may sit the council." "That... you can't just..." "Would a human bear the symbol of status?" "This!" He grasped at it, and it felt deeply soothing, like his grasp was melting the more he tried to hold it. "Was supposed to show equality! Of being a human ruler in a feline land!" "It is a symbol of our people. Of our ways, of our being. To wear it is to wish to join With us, not against us." He struggled, tried to get the.. the thing off! It was oddly heavy, the heat radiating into him the more it pulsed, sitting between twin pectorals that curved inwards as they lost mass into a softer, smaller feline form. All he'd really managed to do was get the white overshirt unbuttoned, torn open for all to see what lay beneath.
"Do you like Britannia?" "What? Of course I do."
"Do you like being In its courts, as a Britannian noble?" "!" She spun him around, and stared deep into his eyes. Mmm, yes good, we'll need to work on that. "Those eyes... were the eyes of a man freed from a life he thought inescapable." "That..." "Admit it. You leapt at the opportunity to get away from them." "I... that has nothing to do with" "It was new, and exotic, but mostly it wasn't stifling." "This! Is kinda stifling!" She backed away a little. "Then what does Mortimer want? The person, not the Pendleton, not the Magistrate?" She set about cleaning up the little things that had fallen in his panic, as if nothing had ever happened. "No one is going to judge you from on high. As far as Britannia is concerned, you are their Magistrate, their voice on the council. As far as Feranya is concerned, you are the newest feline to join their ruling elite."
Swishing her tail, and smiling perhaps a little too deeply she added "And as far as Admarya is concerned... you look rather nice."
He blushed, madly, but made no protest as she left the room. The door shut, and he was left alone with his thoughts. Well, not entirely alone. His tail kept twitching, and the pendant kept pulsing its gentle, calming throbs.
This... was blackmail. Extortion! If he wanted to keep being the Magistrate, they were going to make him become this... thing! This soft, fluffy thing that was huggable and agh! No. Bad. And if he refused, they'd demand a new magistrate, send him back to Britannia with his tail between his legs. Who would believe that he'd refused the position because it was turning him into a cat? "Certainly not Bartemius", he growled.
Good old Barty. A right chip off the old block, so long as that block involved making Him better. Mortimer would be disowned, cast aside for "failing such a simple task". Simple indeed! He hadn't quite been told that the post would come with fur.
He left the bedroom in a huff. Admarya was at her desk, working on papers that he couldn't quite read from this distance. Her ears followed him though, all around the room. Did... did his do that? He COULD. It was rather unbalancing, though something about it was quite enjoyable. Listen there. Listen There! Don't listen at that person, he's rude. Interesting. Certainly more... adaptable than the human brand.
"Well?" "I wasn't saying anything." Yes, but you were thinking it.
"Let it be noted." Mortimer harrumphed. "That I do not appreciate the... surprise of the post's requirements." "Noted. Does that lack of appreciation extend to... this?"
She'd reached behind his head, started to scritch, and his limbs convulsed in release. "Gah!" "Well...?" She stroked in deep, and he was having trouble actually getting over to the couch to avoid further accostation.
"It... you... argggg..." "That's not a no..." She sung it, lightly, victoriously.
"It's not." "Heeee. And there's also thisss..." The fingers came down, lower, gently petting PETTING. Little follicles had grown into the beginnings of proper fur already, and she was stroking at his back in a way that made it give and sink like water. No human muscles could do that, but the more he melted, the less he cared.
"Nnnngggmmmm..." "You really are quite tense."
"And you are very nosy." "Oh goodness no. Nosy is this."
She spun him around, put her nose to his, boop! And when she pulled away, ever so slowly... his nose grew to stay in place, longer and longer until it was a little feline snout.
"!" "Which means we can move on to thisss..."
Gently stroking the muzzle, down to the nose and around the cheeks. He fell back onto the couch, necklace clattering against an open chest. It seemed to... sink in the middle, far more than he was used to. Why was? But she started to knead down there, and everything melted.
Mortimer awoke some time later, where was he again? Oh yes, the... the couch. Admarya had been massaging him very nicely, and... ah. There was the tail, a little bit longer and sticking out between his legs like it owned the place. Maybe it did. He... he supposed he could get used to it. There were a lot of things you could get used to, if needed. His legs seemed more slender, getting rid of those little wiggly wrinkles they had accumulated in the last year or so. Maybe they were just hidden under the fuzzy fur. He petted, and it did seem nice, though his brain was trying to associate Fur with His rather than The Cat's.
She'd left out some clothes for him, slightly more flowing and tropical, certainly seemed to let the air in and breathe better. It had a little sleeve, not quite an inch long for the tail. Slipped right in, very comfortable like, and he marveled at how it wiggled.
The mirror was there again, though he put thoughts of shaving aside. Somehow the face in it was still... recognizably his. It was different, to be sure, but it still registered in his mind as Mortimer. The hair was a bit long, and the fangs a bit sharp, but all in all it wasn't... bad. Just different. Like living in the tropics. Amongst the felines. AS a feline.
Would it really be so bad? He wasn't sure, but... the thought did seem strangely appealing. The more his tail swished, the more he wanted it to swish. The more his ears swiveled, the more he appreciated the ability. He felt lighter, lighter than he had in so long, and... wait.
The mirror, it was too high. Higher than it had been, and the mirror hadn't changed. He was getting... smaller? Something was off, something unexplained and... soft. He had been fingering the little amulet, but his fingers slipped between his chest... and they should not have been able to do that at all.
"Admarya...!"
She came, setting down some files she was working on so that she could pat his head gently. "Yes? You sound annoyed." "What are these?" "Hmm... a little small, if you ask me." "They shouldn't BE there." "Why not? You get to play with them."
He stared, agape, and the expression did not change as she took his hands, and placed them on the tiny little breasts. There. A nice fit.
The glaring continued, and so she sighed and explained. "I'll let you in on a little secret." "It better be good." "The amulet brings out the feline in you, but also your desires, your personality, your tastes. If there's a nice bit of femininity there, it's because that's what your heart craves." "That!" "Desire is a fickle thing. Sometimes we tell it to be quiet, even when we want it so much." "You can't be serious..." "I can! Sometimes. Desire doesn't care about what society says, or what the rules are. It just is, and does what it will. My advice for you is to not feel so guilty about liking it." "!" "So ignoring the part where you list all the reasons why other people say you shouldn't... how about listening to the part where you, the individual, say you should?"
She backed off... but didn't quite leave. Mortimer was quite aware of her watching out of the corner of her eyes. This... he wanted? It did feel nice, to be sure, but it wasn't... him!
Maybe he didn't want it to be him.
The thought echoed, and he ran a hand along his ear. Maybe he wanted that fresh start, that... leaving everything behind. It wasn't supposed to mean his penis!
What has it ever done for you?
Not... not much. Certainly not anything worth bragging about, or reminiscing fondly over. But he was Mortimer, he didn't know how to be a girl! You didn't know how to be a magistrate either.
He sighed, laying down on the couch once more. The... lumps were quite obvious from this angle, and the way the pants seemed to sink in front... there wasn't much left there, was it? He'd managed to get so far into the change without even... noticing it. Wasn't that proof he didn't really need what was lost?
Admarya came over, sat down next to his feet, his paws perhaps. Something was catching in her eyes, and he... couldn't look away.
"You're... doing something..." "Is it such a bad thing?" "You didn't ask." "Neither did you. Or your father. Or your Minister. Or anyone, really. You weren't ever supposed to be here, but they insisted." "Why then?" "Because we don't really have the luxury of asking. We'd like to play nice, to be friends, but the world doesn't want to play that way as of late. But here, since you like it so much, I'll let you have the choice."
Mortimer's eyes wavered, and the room swam. He recognized it now, the way that her gaze made everything else unimportant. And deep down, he really hoped he wouldn't have to fight it. That... he wasn't sure if he could, or if he really wanted to.
"You can be the magistrate, with all your status and power. Britannia might frown upon it, but you'll be a feline of class and respect. Feranya will support you as one of our own, and perhaps we might even make a proper, lasting peace out of it." "You could stay, but choose to abdicate. To say that you're not ready to be a magistrate. You'd have a peaceful, Feranyan life, without the status, but also without the pressure. Narla would love to have a little sister, I'm sure."
"Or... you could go back to Britannia. Human, suit and all. But they're not going to like that answer, and without our support, who knows where you'll end up?"
Mortimer pondered. Thoughts wiggled, fanciful ideas of rebellion melted into jelly, and at the end of it all... he knew where he would go.
"I'll... stay. Be the magistrate, I just..." "Need some help along the way." "No more tricks. No more forcing. If you want to have that sort of luxury... start with the people around you." "Haha. As you wish."
The waves crashed, spilling back into his head, but the energy did not abate. Mortimer moaned, quite loudly as the force grabbed his outsides and pulled it gently inward. It bent around where the breasts should be, as they filled and furred and the nipples rose to greet the sunset. It pulled Inside her crotch, the final pieces of resistance bending inwards to accept what others might bring. Her fur rippled to life, even as her thoughts coalesced into a calmer, happier state. Her tail was so long, with a little tuft at the end. As she lifted her hands, they had the little beans on the palms, and she squished them together tentatively.
Mortima yawned, and her jaw fully settled into a fine feline shape. She felt so slinky, so smooth, and when she rose from the couch it was with a grace and poise that no human could dare to match. There were new things, new sensations. An underside to her chest, and her butt, but a between to her legs. Over and around, under and through, as she flexed her clawed toes on the tile and smiled a glorious smile.
"It feels... peaceful now." "Good. Wouldn't want you to be in a form you're not at home with." "You know I can't keep a... personal visit from my father's servants at bay for long. They'll find out." "That is fine. With this, we have all we need. And we would support you even as they do not." "Then... it is fine."
She did not argue as Admarya came around, placing her hand upon the amulet. It seared a little though, when she pushed, as the thing glowed bright yellow and sank into her fur. Deeper and deeper, until the string was cut and it fell to the ground. A proper symbol of Feranyan status, that none could dare refute.
"This is the first time we've Made a councilor, as opposed to electing one, but I think you turned out alright." "And if I hadn't?" "Well... let's not worry about that. We have a lot of ground to cover." "So we do."
To my dear son, Mortimer Pendleton,
What are you doing? We've received word that you've been Mingling our naval officers with the Feranyan navy, and using our boats to protect their local shipping lines. They are to be Subjugated, not treated as equals. The felines have gotten to your head, but I do hope that you will see reason. Do Not make me come down there myself.
Sincerely,
Duke Bartemius Pendleton, H.R.Empire of Brittania
Dear Father
Surely Britannia has the strength to properly police its waters? When the seas are safe for all, the local economy can flourish and we can have more to offer the motherland in trade. Do not let your hate for non-humans cloud your judgment. That said, I would not mind a friendly discussion to iron out details. Perhaps some Feranyan hospitality would be beneficial.
Sincerely,
Magistrate Mortimer Pendleton, H.R.Empire of Brittania
Mortima sighed as she slid the letter aside. Marla had come in with some tea, though she was holding her nose in disgust.
"Your icky drinks are here." "Thank you Marla. You should try some." "Eww no. You know you're the Only person here who drinks that stuff?" "It's an acquired taste." "Well, acquire a new one! *phhhbt*"
Admarya dodged the sprinting child as she entered. "You look glum." "I do so love writing to Father." "As long as he doesn't bring a batallion with him." "Yes well... forgive me, but I have a nostalgic mental image of him. Twood be a shame to replace that with a shaved sphinx cat." She giggled, and gave Mortima a little smooch. "Now now. If negotiations go well, we won't even have to change him at all." "You know that's not going to happen." "I can dream."
Mortima leaned back, her tail swishing idly under the desk. So she could.