They sat on one of the gurneys, behind a curtained area in the MASH unit. Pio was knocking back her second water glass of Bombay Sapphire and had thrown the olives to her companions.
‘I can’t believe you made us wear this.’ The three Wargs chafed at the bow ties and tiara they had gotten after a thorough cleansing at Doggie Sudz’n’Dudz. ‘And you, what kind of outfit is that?’
Pio flicked a stray piece of lint from the lapel of her black silk tux, and tugged at bottom of her midnight blue vest. ‘For your information it’s an Armani. Just meeting the demand, my dear. Or haven’t you heard? All females are to try out male roles.’
‘And which male role are you trying out?’ Carchmoroth watched her carefully as she stood up. No sign of swaying yet. He grinned, his yellow teeth an interesting contrast against his red gums.
‘Cary Grant, I think. With a dash of Jackie Chan.’
She glanced at her distorted image, in the shiny metal bottom of a small surgical basin. ‘Good enough!’ She threw her gloves into her top hat and stored it on a high shelf, next to the dart gun.
‘Let’s go, my dears. We should mingle.’ She pulled back the curtain and stepped out, grabbing some promising concoction from a passing server.
The three Wargs followed her out, trying their best to blend into the glitzy crowd.
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.
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