Only when the fire died down did Morrigan crouch next to the Bogaboo, picking through the rubble. There was not much save skull fragments and the charred remains of wood. They tucked a few pieces away - the Bogaboo’s body itself did not seem especially valuable or special, more like dead remnants held together by ashes and hatred, but perhaps there was still some lingering magic in these parts. You never knew what might make for a valuable potion part, or material for a good grift. You never knew; maybe Morrigan could pass this off as the piece of a skull of a king, or even a god fragment, for a few coins.

They glanced up as Fish approached, almost sounding… annoyed as they signed to the charlatan in halting, clinical words.

It was probably the truth that Fish had the situation handled. Morrigan was under no delusions as to their weaknesses, and that included against beings that they could not reason with, much less speak to. A majority of their power came from their ability to bluff and bullshit out of a situation, where between them the bird was the one capable of handling themselves.

And yet, they hadn’t run.

Fish probably saw them as a hinderance, but Morrigan reasoned they’d promised to come along on this research trip, and for whatever stupid, illogical reason, they didn’t feel like it was right to just… go. Like it was important for them to stay to the end and make sure Fish wasn’t hurt. Honor amongst thieves? Probably, though Morrigan had no honor to speak of and they weren’t entirely sure Fish knew the word, so that was unlikely.

Maybe it was really just as simple as that Morrigan did not want to think about what would happen if they left Fish alone. They’d done enough leaving in their life that sticking around was almost unthinkable - and yet. And yet.

Morrigan liked the life they had at the Desert Rose Apothecary, with Kvasir and Fish in their shack and yes, to some extent, even that nerdy kid Nyr. They couldn’t fathom what would happen if one of the others was just erased from it.

“And give up the chance to test out Demon-Be-Gone? As if.” Morrigan said instead; because the thought of expressing that to the bird seemed unfathomable, too. “In the end the creature was fairly underwhelming, but it was a nice field trial. I think Master Lloyd might be disappointed that we didn’t get a body, but I think he’ll be even more disappointed when he gets the check for our services in the mail, wouldn’t you say?” Their expression twinkled with mischief.

Yes, they’d managed to actually observe the Bogaboo, and navigate the swamp, and slay the bogeyman plaguing the Marshes, all that jazz. Morrigan would have a song written up about it later. But now, here came the fun part. Extorting that field researcher for every solar he owned.

"Do not make Fish tell Morrigan about safe scientific practices again." A bold threat from the bird who's ethics were nearly non-existent. Kvasir hadn't quite finished his first lesson with Fish before they had to discuss informed consent. And don't even get started on the talking-tos from Del and Cyran.

There's also the fact that Fish regularly kicks Morrigan out of the shack. The space is too small and the fellblood is too glittery. It really was designed only for Fish, so why were they bothering to invite in other people anyways? Maybe they should start inviting Morrigan to the boat/tavern they own....The workshop there has more space and Morrigan could provide more entertainment which would bring in more people........An interesting business proposal.

All of those thoughts cross Fish's mind as the bird just blankly stares at Morrigan. The fellblood is very used to this vacant expression, it means the bird is thinking which is one of the most dangerous things Fish is capable of. The fact that they were fixed on Morrigan couldn't bode well for the fellblood.

Suddenly, they blink at the mention of Lloyd and the trance is broken.

"Invoices and papers can easily be ignored...Fish has..." They pause to quick draw their pistol before holstering it. "One bullet and several more bolts and throwing knives. Fish believes a personal touch will be more effective in getting a just payment for this work."

Morrigan waved a dismissive hand, sending forth yet another wave of impossible glitter with the motion. “If everyone abided by pedestrian concepts like laboratory safety, then nothing would ever get done. Besides,” They gestured towards the smoldering remains of the Bogaboo, “It worked, did it not? So, by my measure, field test successful!” They were fully aware of the fact that their alchemy style was just this shy of giving the bird an aneurysm, but they respected the scientific process about as much as they respected everything else in life - which was to say, very little.

Morrigan’s entire process was a nightmare and a half of cross contamination, haphazard spilling of ingredients, enough glitter to give someone a lung disease, and a replicability of their recipes that would make any respectable chemist faint. They were fairly certain that Fish had a page dedicated to figuring out how the hell Morrigan actually managed to produce results with such slapdash and lackadaisical processes (nestled right next to the page detailing all the bird’s botched poisoning attempts against Morrigan, because they still had yet to find the charlatan’s leech failsafe).

But to Morrigan, it wasn’t repetition and learning and other monotonous words that sounded more like torture than academia didn’t obtain results. Innovation, creativity, and ingenuity got results, and if that meant toeing the edge between insanity and genius then that was just fine with them. Besides, they’d managed a brew potent enough to hold off a damn Bogaboo, so clearly they were doing something right.

Any further argument was cut short the moment Fish pulled out their gun.

“Whoa, whoa, there’s no need for that!” Morrigan yelped, not because they were especially worried about the researcher’s life; but they did kind of sort of need him alive if they were going to get their hands on that money. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression you catch more flies with honey than vinegar?” They huffed.

“A coward like Lloyd, who sends adventurers to do his field work, is just as likely to piss his pants and call the guards as he is to acquiesce to your… request.” They eyed the cool metal of the gun once more. “No; he is an academic, a man so simpleminded yet complex in his intensity and curiosity. He seeks knowledge, and what better way is there to get what you want than by taking advantage of someone else’s wants? If we truly want Lloyd to cough up the real cash, then we need to make him think that giving us all that money was his idea. What we need… is a grift.”

"Improvisation and lab safety work well for Fish, Fish invents many things with little risk of things exploding in Fish's face." Granted Fish was usually the one working with actual explosives, but somehow they didn't create nearly as many explosive results.

Fish did often back track to try and figure out how Morrigan creates the things they do. It's an oddly fun little puzzle for the bird to try and work backwards from what the fellblood does. Most of the time Fish can cut the process in half and get a similar result, though it usually lacks the aesthetic appeal Morrigan's concotions have.

"Fish does not experiment with flies, it holds little scientific value for Fish's work....Fish has found the noise of the gun is enough to scare many people...a warning shot should suffice. Lloyd does not need to know Fish only has that one shot. And we have a grift....Fish gave them Fish's standard contract, per Izzy's suggestion Fish always has a clause for additional fees to be negotiated upon completion of the job. Fish often has to build or make things on the fly during the job, so generally Fish collects a small reimbursement fee for said supplies....but the clause does not specify those fees have to be for that. If Morrigan is clever enough, then legally speaking we could ask for a lot more money. Izzy says laws are a grift anyways, so Fish is exploiting the system."

“It’s a metaphor…” Morrigan started, only to stop and reconsider. Fish spoke in short, clinical terms - in some ways the complete antithesis of Morrigan’s manner of speech and expressions. “What I’m trying to say is that sweetness often works for prying what you want out of people. Scare them, and you’ll only get the bare minimum of what you snuck into that pretty little legal clause, no?”

In contrast to their reticence when it came to combatting the Bogaboo now, Morrigan was alright while they discussed their next plans, making their way back to camp. The trek back was far less cautious than the way forward. The two had done their job… now it was time to reap the sweetest reward.

They nodded, unsurprised that the suggestion had come from Izzy. The young bird was clinical to a fault, and endlessly methodical. But as they’d demonstrated with their gun, Fish often preferred direct methods of confrontation and extortion. Sneaking legal jargon in the fine print was much more Izzy’s style… and Morrigan’s.

“And Miss Issala Arodre is always smart and wise.” Morrigan nodded in agreement before tapping at their cheek, where the Bogaboo had left a scar along the side of the cheekbone - almost like a groove of contoured, crimson makeup. It would heal, eventually - given a potion it would disappear in a flash. But Morrigan had yet to take their elixir for a reason. “That is precisely why I always include a clause for damages to any part of my person that would impact my career - the face and the hands are the moneymakers. And I’ve just received major damage that’s debilitating to my work as a public figure.”

Their tail swished behind them, excited at the prospect of the payoff at the end.

“Between your case and mine, I daresay we have all the pieces for a case of a negligent contractor on our hands.”

Yes, Morrigan and Fish might have had many differences, but there were a few choice matters on which they were in complete agreement. Morrigan rarely spoke it, but they worked well with Fish. Even through disagreements and sniping and stabbing and making fun of one another; whether it was monster hunting or grifting, Morrigan knew that Fish would have their back.

“Now let us get out of this nasty swamp and sue the very pants off of this man, yes?”

Fish resists the urge to perch on Morrigan's shoulders again, noting how muddy their feet had gotten while running around. Fish didn't seem to mind it, but they knew Morrigan was all about appearances. It was somewhat ironic that between the two of them the non-bird would be much more into preening themselves.



The bird actually hated the molting process. Feathers ruffle up at the thought sending a few loose feathers tumbling out. Fish stares at the fallen feathers with a cold look.......It has begun.



Their attention just snaps back up to Morrigan and nods, they aren't going to start fully molting in the middle of a swamp that much is certain.