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When her makeshift hood came off, Brine was suddenly in another room. Warm lights, brown hues; compared to Bongo's musty old lab, this seemed more akin to a luxurious villa. The first thing to meet her still-adjusting eyes was the fuzzy rug under her knees. It actually felt kind of nice. But by no means did "nice" equate to "safe". Seated in an ornate chair in front of her was a large man, by every definition of the word. He looked equal parts wild boar and bulldog, his tusk-like pair of teeth almost distracting from the dubiously sourced fur-trim coat draped over his shoulders. Two of the pinstriped goons from before were flanking him; whoever he was, he most certainly was the one in charge. With a long, low grunt, he leaned forward in his chair to examine Brine, studying her like a foreign object. Brine in turn said nothing, only biting her lip while her spiral-patterned eyes continued to drill into the floor rug. She still had no clue what kind of god she'd slighted in her inebriated state to end up here. More than anything, she wondered if she'd just been served as this thing's dinner. Any further speculation of hers would be cut short, as the hand of the missing third suit suddenly gripped her shoulder to redirect her attention to the man. Apparently, she'd missed something important. "Mweh?" was all she could muster. "I said..." sounded a grotesquely deep voice. "Do you know who I am?" Brine initially shook her head - before realizing maybe mere gestures wouldn't cut it with this person. "I guess someone important. Did YOU pick these guys' wardrobes?" The man snorted like a hog. "Well, THEY seem to have brought me a lil' jokester today - HUH, boys?" He looked between his uniformed lackeys with a toothy grin as everyone started chuckling - Brine nervously joining in - only for a bellowing "SHUT UP" to choke the whole room. Commanding the girl's attention, the man glared down at her from his mahogany throne. His eyes were small, yet pierced right through her soul. "I dunno WHERE you came from, or HOW you got stuck runnin' errands for that second-rate PIPE PUSHER... ...You're aware of our operation now, and that... is a problem." Petrified, Brine's wide-eyed gaze stayed glued to the man; she clearly couldn't afford anything less right now. "But listen..." He continued, idly flicking an incense stick on a small, round table. "I'm a reasonable man; who I CAN be, is your very best friend. All you have to do... is work for me." Brine stared up at him with furled brows, only for her tense expression to ease into a hopeful grin. By this point, forced employment sounded better than whatever else this guy might have in store. "Y... Yeah?" She uttered light-heartedly. Hands on his knees, the man then hunched forward once again, casting a dark, cold shadow over the diminutive foreigner. "... And you're going to want me as your friend." Brine's smile dropped. With that, the girl had been welcomed into this hulking hog-dog-man's growing ensemble of henchmen. King Tusk was his name - and they'd be sure to let her know. | |