Chapter Text
"Did you steal it from Grapeface's private supply?" There hadn't been this much high-quality oil at the Maximal base.
"Liberated," The offended dignity in his tone is belied by his sparkling optics. "...Cheetor helped," he allows.
"Did he now..." Blackarachnia begins with an arch smile.
Silverbolt holds her tighter. "I don't want to talk about Cheetor."
Blackarachnia laughs. "And the goat?"
The goat in question chews happily at the edge of the tarp spread across the grass. Silverbolt groans. "It won't go away!"
A bolt from her crossbow has the goat bounding away, bleating. "Now," Blackarachnia purrs, "about that oil..."
