Witch's Marsh You are paying for that snake to be dry-cleaned

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Blech!

The exclamation turned his head, and he found a little sprite staring at him in the muck. Her eyes were glowing in the dim light; he found them awfully compelling, and was tempted enough by her spirit to step off the roots and into the worst of the marsh once more.

Bleeecccchhhhh, Pygmalion agreed, drawing out the sound for ultimate emphasis. It's rather gross here, isn't it? His burr was enhanced by the impish smile that stretched his muzzle, the 'r's rolling like thunder. What're you doing in a place like this?

Oh, yes. The evergreen, "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" Except it was slightly different, in this scenario, and Pyg didn't mean anything lascivious by the remark.