Doug's eyes snapped open as laughter suddenly broke through the lonesome silence of his sunny day. With a graceless yelp, the youth tipped off the branch he had fallen asleep upon and fell several feet down and crashed atop his tent, toppling it completely while landing on his neck with a sound pop, before the rest of his body came flopping to the floor limply.

Beat.

A second later, he sprang up to his feet, pointing dramatically at the Driflimb and its master far above him.

"Well, well, WELL! If it ain't the Empress and her minions! To what do I owe this unexpected DIS-pleasure?" He said, sticking out his tongue at her. "Surely not here to thank me for my SPY, are you?"

In response, a cute little Dustox fluttered down from the balloon and rested upon an upraised piece of his wrecked tent, drawing an unwitting coo out of the bugcatcher.

He caught himself too late, biting his tongue down like he meant to chop it off.

"... C-curses! How dare you try to use my own trick against- Hey, wait, come back! I ain' done with my bit! Wait, waaait!"

---

John Sullivan eagerly and gratefully accepts chryssa glasgow's lovely spy gift.