“There are no procedures.”
“There are now.”
“You made them up this morning.”
“That’s how rules begin.”
Bas rolled his eyes so dramatically, it was honestly impressive.
Around them, the pub carried on as normal. Glasses clinked. Someone near the dartboard was being loudly accused of cheating. The smell of ale and fried food lingered heavily in the air.
Normal.
Which was deeply inconsiderate considering Binky was currently managing a full-scale constitutional crisis.
“Point one,” Binky announced. “Edith is now human-ish.”
“Still a shifter,” Bas countered immediately.
“Human adjacent.”
“She literally breathes fire.”
“Occasionally.”
“She bit Denzel the other week.”
“That was justified.”
Denzel, seated nearby on the back of a chair, gave a small nod without looking around.
Binky waved a wing impatiently. “The point remains, she now possesses knees and therefore no longer fits within the structural parameters of the clubhouse.”
Bas narrowed his eyes. “You just don’t want to rebuild the entrance.”
“That isnotthe issue.”
“It’s absolutely the issue.”
Binky fluffed up indignantly. “I refuse to be attacked during official proceedings.”
“Then stop making stupid rulings.”
“I am protecting tradition!”
“You invented the tradition twelve minutes ago!”
Grundlepus snored louder, clearly exhausted by the intellectual strain in the room.
Binky turned toward him desperately. “Grundlepus, thoughts?”
Grundlepus cracked one eye open. He looked at Binky, then atBas, then atthe ceiling before he deliberately yawned, stretched, and went right back to sleep.
“Compelling, WANKA,” Binky muttered.
Honestly. No support anywhere.
Bas flicked his tail again. “She should still be a member,” he said, more seriously now. “She’s still Edith.”
