Brad sits in the bushes in full safari gear, fake mustache on, binoculars up, staring at Baxter’s lemon stand like it’s a sacred wildlife preserve.

Right beside him is the giant royal decree sign with Brad’s deadpan face on it.

Baxter:
You know what really sells the disguise?

Brad Wulf:
My professionalism.

Baxter:
No, the part where the ban sign has your exact face on it.

Brad Wulf:
That poster depicts a wanted man.

Baxter:
It’s you.

Brad Wulf:
Resembling me.

Baxter:
It literally says, “Do not sell lemons to this wolf.”

Brad Wulf:
A regrettably broad description.

Baxter:
Brad, you’re the only wolf in a safari hat hiding in a bush with binoculars.

Brad Wulf:
That only proves consistency.

Baxter:
And the fake mustache?

Brad Wulf:
That proves range.

Brad slowly adjusts the binoculars, still staring at the lemons.

Brad Wulf:
Specimen cluster appears healthy.

Baxter:
They’re lemons.

Brad Wulf:
Your lack of scientific curiosity disappoints me.

Baxter:
Your wife banned you from buying citrus and somehow I’m the problem.

Brad Wulf:
Her decree has hindered research.

Baxter:
Your “research” looks a lot like wanting to eat my inventory.

Brad Wulf:
That is an unfair accusation.

Pause.
Pause.
Pause.

Brad Wulf:
I also wish to smell it-

Baxter:
There it is!

Then the sunlight dims.

A huge shadow slowly swallows the stall, the bushes, the sign, and Baxter’s will to live.

Baxter’s eyes widen.

Baxter:
...Oh no.

Brad Wulf:
What?

Baxter:
Don't turn around...too fast.

Brad Wulf:
Why?

Baxter:
Because I think your marriage just entered phase two.

Brad Wulf:
Your statement lacks clarity.

Baxter slowly raises one trembling finger and points behind Brad.

Baxter:
That.

Brad lowers the binoculars.

Brad Wulf:
What is “that”?

Behind him, Queen Emberlynn in her massive Legendary Dragon Form looms over the bushes, mouth closed, eyes glowing, staring deadpan at the back of Brad’s head.

Her giant nostrils release a slow, hot HFFFFFFFFFFFFF right down his neck.

Brad’s fake mustache flutters like it’s reconsidering its life choices.

Brad Wulf:
...

Baxter:
You feelin’ that “wildlife” now?

Another blast of hot dragon breath.

HFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

Brad’s safari hat tilts forward a little.

Brad Wulf:
There appears to be weather.

Baxter:
That ain’t weather, Your Majesty. That’s your wife.

Brad Wulf:
A serious claim.

Baxter:
She's big enough to have her own climate!

Brad very slowly turns his eyes upward without moving the rest of his body.

Brad Wulf:
...Ah.

Baxter:
Yeah. “Ah.”

Emberlynn says nothing.

She just keeps glaring.

And breathing.

The mustache starts peeling off one side.

Baxter:
She’s literally steaming the disguise off your face!

Brad Wulf:
The disguise has served with honor.

Baxter:
It served badly.

Brad Wulf:
Badly, yet bravely.

Emberlynn exhales harder.

HFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

The notebook pages start flipping on their own.

Baxter:
You gonna say something?

Brad Wulf:
I am considering diplomacy.

Baxter:
Do it faster!

Brad Wulf:
Emberlynn.

The giant dragon queen continues staring.

Brad Wulf:
My presence here is not what it appears to be.

Baxter:
That's the worst opening you could’ve picked.

Emberlynn’s nostrils flare.

Brad Wulf:
I was conducting field research.

Baxter:
On what? Breaking trust?

Brad Wulf:
Citrus behavior.

Long silence.

Baxter:
Wow. He doubled down.

Brad Wulf:
The wild lemon fascinates me.

Baxter:
Brad, she is one sentence away from making you extinct...then again you can't die so...

Emberlynn lowers her giant face even closer.

Brad’s ears flatten.

Brad Wulf:
I can explain.

Baxter:
Can you?

Brad Wulf:
No. But I can speak calmly while consequences arrive.

The fake mustache finally falls off.

Baxter looks at it. Then at Brad. Then up at the dragon queen.

Baxter:
Well. There goes the brother story.

Brad Wulf:
He died as he lived.

Baxter:
Who?

Brad Wulf:
My distinguished mustached brother.

Baxter:
You are unbelievable...!

Emberlynn finally rumbles, low and dangerous.

Emberlynn:
Braaaaaaad.....

Baxter winces.

Baxter:
Oh, that’s your government name tone.

Brad Wulf:
I am aware.

Baxter:
You want me to say I sold you nothing?

Brad Wulf:
That would be appreciated.

Baxter:
You want me to lie to a giant dragon queen?!

Brad Wulf:
When phrased that way, it sounds selfish.

Baxter:
Because it is!

Emberlynn’s eyes narrow at the royal decree sign, the binoculars, the journal, the bush, and finally Brad.

Emberlynn:
Would you like to explain why you’re disguised as a fruit stalker?

Brad Wulf:
In my defense—

Baxter:
He’s got nothin’!

Brad Wulf:
I was about to produce something.

Baxter:
It wasn’t gonna be good!

Brad Wulf:
That is historically accurate.

Emberlynn continues staring.

Brad Wulf:
I missed lemons.

Baxter:
There it is. The truth. Tiny, sad, and extremely stupid.

Brad Wulf:
I would object to “stupid.”

Baxter:
Brad, you are in a bush wearing a safari hat while your wife in giant dragon form is breathing down your neck.

Brad Wulf:
Then I would object quietly.