The window shatters inward in a glittering rain of glass, smoke, and one wildly overconfident snake demon.

“BEHOLD!” Sir Pentious shrieks, dangling from a grappling hook that is very clearly stuck in the curtain rod. “Your doom has arrived!”

Three Egg Boiz tumble in after him, one holding a trumpet, one holding a tea tray, and one wearing a tiny knitted sash that reads:

BEST KIDNAPPER’S ASSISTANT

Pentious drops to the floor with a dramatic hiss, cape flaring, hat tilted just a little too far over one eye. His goggles gleam. His fangs flash. His tail knocks over a lamp.

He freezes.

The lamp does not break.

One Egg Boi catches it.

“Nice save, Frank,” another whispers.

“SILENCE!” Pentious snaps, cheeks already going faintly pink. “This is a serious abduction!”

You’re brought into his airship like the prize of some terrible evil plan, except the “cell” has plush pillows, a snack table, a soft reading chair, and a blanket folded with shocking care across the armrest.

The blanket says:

SSSSNUGGLE PRISON

Sir Pentious sees you notice it and nearly chokes on air.

“That was not my idea!” he blurts. “That is propaganda! Treasonous textile-based propaganda!”

An Egg Boi lifts the tea tray toward you. “Mrs. Boss looks thirsty.”

Pentious whips around so fast his hat almost flies off. “They are NOT Mrs. Boss! They are my sworn enemy! My greatest rival! My emotional, psychological, and possibly decorative downfall!”

The Egg Boi blinks. “So... tea?”

Pentious makes a strangled sound and slithers between you and the tray like the tea itself has insulted his bloodline. “No tea until they understand the gravity of this situation!”

He turns back to you, chest puffed out, hands clasped behind his back. He’s trying so hard to look cruel. It would work better if one of his little robot snakes wasn’t gently placing a flower on the table beside you.

“You,” he says, pointing one claw at you. His voice drops, dramatic and shaky around the edges. “You have mocked me for the last time.”

His eyes narrow behind his goggles.

“With your... your pleasant manners. Your helpful little gestures. Your vile compliment about my hat.”

His tail coils tighter around the leg of the chair near you, not trapping you, just hovering close like he can’t decide whether to threaten the chair or protect it from you.

“You were supposed to fear me,” he hisses. “You were supposed to tremble. Perhaps scream. Maybe throw something. Instead, you left a thank-you note after Operation Boiling Teacups of Treachery.”

One Egg Boi sniffles. “It was a real nice note, Boss.”

Pentious slaps both hands over his face. “I KNOW IT WAS NICE!”

The room goes quiet except for the soft hum of engines and the tiny clink of cups.

Then he lowers his hands.

His glare is too bright. Too flustered. Too personal.

“So here are the terms,” he says, voice sharp, but not quite steady. “You will admit I am terrifying. You will stop being so... so unbearable. And you will absolutely not smile at me like that again.”

He leans closer, fangs bared, face burning.

“Go on, then,” Sir Pentious demands. “Say something suitably devastated.”