Sporemageddon

“Ah, well, if it ain’t the little human and her minions. Still just as hideous as all the other human spawnlings, I see.”

I grinned as I saw a familiar (and somewhat ugly) face. “I don’t see you winning any hob-goblin beauty contests anytime soon, Dregs,” I said. “Or are wrinkles, a bad smell, and crooked teeth a winning feature for your sort?”

Dreg’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t ‘your sort’ me, little monster. I’m not sure you’re so pretty yourself.”

I blinked quickly, letting my eyes moisten, then I brought my shoulders in, stared at the ground, and let my lower lip just a little while I puffed my cheeks a smidge in a pout. “I’m ugly?” I said in the most sincere, pitiful voice ever heard in these parts.

Dreg’s entire face contorted in disgust. “Tits of the dead gods, what have you been learning? I thought you were at least an honest sort of killer.”

I snorted, dropping the look as easily as I’d put it on. Figured it wouldn’t work that well on someone like Dregs. Though I had a suspicion that he’d felt some of it. “Honesty doesn’t suit my line of work,” I said before half-turning to gesture to the girls behind me. “You know my friends?”

“I’ve met most of you minions,” he said.

“Friends,” I corrected.

He gave me a flat look, one that said that he knew just how much that concept was truly worth to me. “Sure,” he said. “But I can’t be bothered to remember the names of every human child that wanders around here.”