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There are some people, Scanlan has found, whose very existence leads itself to a single-word descriptor. It’s probably an aura thing. If he believed in auras. Which he might not. He might now, because this guy, this guy, he’s got an aura, and the whole thing screams twat.
If you looked up twat in the dictionary, there would just be a picture of this guy. Just that. Him and his fancy hair and his fancy armor and his fancy golem and his fancy talk. Scanlan knows a bullshitter when he sees one, because it’s like looking in a mirror. This guy’s so full of shit his eyes are brown.
“Well, hello there, small fellow!” he bombasts at Scanlan. “And what might your name be?”
It’s like riding a horse. You never really forget, but it still kind of hurts the first time you pick it up after quitting for a long time.
Scanlan grins at him. It’s like putting on an old coat, long discarded, and realizing that yes, you yourself do have a smell and this is it.
“Ah, my name is Burt Reynolds, Attorney at Large,” says Scanlan. “I recently became aware that you—”
“At large?” says Lord High Twat the First, Extremest of the Turds and Too Tall For His Own Damn Good. He laughs a twat laugh. “How ironic!”
“Isn’t it?” Scanlan says. The grin is threatening to rip his face in half. “I recently became aware that you entered into a binding contract with these lovely people—” he gestures to the rest (the entirety) of Vox Machina— “and, since I represent them legally, I’m afraid I’m going to need to go over all the paperwork with you, starting with this one, and then this one, and then I have this one, and this one needs to be signed in triplicate, and then there’s the complications for the pet bear, and of course I’ll need to speak with your secretary—”
Twatlord scoffs. “Doughty is not a secretary. He is my bibliographer! He records all my adventures—”
“Does he!” Scanlan cries. He leaps up and snatches the book from the golem’s hands. He’s seen Vax pull the move a hundred thousand times, launch off the thigh just above the knee, an extra kick off the hip, grab and land on one knee—
Vax must have much younger knees than Scanlan, because sweet Sarenrae does that shit hurt. He smiles through it. He is very good at that.
He leafs through the book while Twatlord sputters. The rest (entirety) of Vox Machina are biting their tongues. Vex is just about vibrating with glee. Keyleth looks like Winter’s Crest has come early.
“Let’s see, let’s see, oh, now this is interesting,” Scanlan says, raising his eyebrows. He is enjoying this much too much. “What’s this here, slayed ‘small’ beholder with ‘help’ from ‘volunteers,’ hm, now, tell me about these quote-unquote volunteers, were they also promised some form of compensation for their work?”
“Ah, no?” says Twatlord Extreme. He tosses his hair over his shoulder. Scanlan’s got half a mind to headbutt him right in the balls just to watch him crumple. “That’s what volunteer means. Say, did you even pass the bar?”
“Oh, sir, oh I assure you,” says Scanlan, laying it on thick. “My associate there—” Grog— “carries around all my degrees, certifications, and awards in his ~magic bag~ because my diminutive frame is, alas, too weak to carry them around myself.”
“Does he? Let’s see them, then,” says Twatlord Supreme Supersize McShitstain.
“Why, of course!” says Scanlan. “Grog, please show the man my qualifications.”
Grog makes that constipated-lapdog face he always makes when any kind of ingenuity is asked of him.
“Wot?” he says.
“Yes yes, my good friend!” says Twatlord Shitbutt the Fourth. “I would so love to see all the fantastic accomplishments of Mr. . . . what was it, Brindols?”
“Reynolds,” says Scanlan. “Burt Reynolds.”
“Yes yes, well, if you wouldn’t mind giving Doughty back my book? I would love to have recorded my first encounter with such an illustrious fellow, Mr. Ryebald.”
“Rip him a new one, Scan-man,” Vax whispers in Scanlan’s ear.
Scanlan rubs his hands together. It has been a while.
“Oh, of course, of course, my mistake, sir,” says Scanlan. He makes a great show of returning the book to the golem. “But you know, I do wonder, what does Doughty have to say about all this?”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the whisper of the fabric of the Universe, he hears the voice whisper, And I cast ‘Awaken’ on Doughty. . . .