You awoke with a start to the sound of a drill - only to find yourself strapped to a leather chair in the painfully-familiar mess which made The Goose's office. Originally, you panicked, sure you were about to be the next trial objective for 'Drill the Futterman' or something.

Your initial alarm was dampened quickly by confusion.

The large, usually-looming drill was instead lowered behind you, and Gooseberry herself stood a few feet away with... a clothing rack.

It held an assortment of fabrics, some sparkly, some matte; most clothes seemed to be more costumes than anything. Beside that was a small mobile vanity, its cracked wooden surface littered with various makeups and combs. Gooseberry rolled it closer to her as she continued poking around.

The Prime Asset hummed to herself, happily, almost innocently, waltzing around the rack and sifting through the hangers. "Oh, Daddy, this is going to be so much fun! Which shirt do you think would make them the prettiest?"

The Futterman puppet growled in return, plastic eyes comically narrow. "Nonses!" it squawked. "You can'ts dress a pigses, Phyllis!"

A pout. "Awh, Dr. Daddy, you're no fun..."