Iktome Plains My friends all drive Porsches I must make amends

"It depends. Hags are finicky things. You never know. But if the story is good or such that she has never heard of, then she might look at you favourably," Dwin gave the boy a toothy grin, but kept the banter friendly and playful. Her young companion had already earned a nice green check-mark in the list of qualities the young Blackthorn found important in people. Right next to - "Has a sense of humor". Or rather - the kind of humor that Dwin had grown up with and that helped her connect with people outside her immediate circle of family and friends. 

"But - mind you - hags are always, always, always better than Muses. Those posh girls demand your full love, attention and admiration, they squeeze you dry and then leave you on the rocks, when they grow tired of you. They have drunk a bit too much of the ambrosia and think themselves gods. That happens, when you live in the clouds and do not stand firmly on the ground as hags do," she added. "Anyway - stage and spotlight is yours - story of your choosing, please!" she told him, sat up straight and looked at him expectantly.