Lion Head Mesa socius

coming to the throne room on pittering feet, gucci's mind was wracked with worry.

he was not guilty. that was fact. but what if he acted like he was? if he did anything that could be misconstrued as an admission of guilt, well, there'd be no bailing him. he very much doubted the wolves and coyotes ever heard of lawyers.

tink tink tink went his dogtag as the teacup man approached, pausing a moment to adjust his fur and posturing before entering. he maintained casualness as he came in, a kind of relaxed dominance expected of him. he even managed a lazy smile of pleasantness, until his eyes set upon the soldier.

the neb froze. it was his assumption he'd be speaking to one of the footmen, the underlings. the imperator would not have been a guess even in his dreams.

do they already think ah did it?

the pleasant expression resumed.

"ah wish a good evenin' t'you, mistah imperator sir." the chihuahua drawled as he came within conversable distance. "hope y'all's stay's been pleasant so far, minus the investigatin', 'fcourse."