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Summary
"Being framed for the murder of the queen is not a minor grievance!"
"And so is arm-chopping, Mr. Mopey Face!"
"Oh, real mature!"
"Yeah, and you know what else is real mature? Hiding in a rundown turret!" Nimona yelled at his face, then draped herself across the floor, patting it. "No offense to turret, best evil lair I've seen in my one thousand years of existence."
"One thousand years of—? Nevermind, you know what, I'm not hiding, I'm laying low until the perfect timing comes to confront the Director about this."
"Really? You're not saying that because you refuse to be wrong?"
"Yes!"
"Riiiiight. And that's not the queen knocking on the front door."
Knockknockknock.
The Queen lives. And she's decided to
slaystay.alternate title: ballster gets to keep his mom figure
