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"Aye? You tell your brown lad out there to muzzle you before you head back in and I'll think about it," Cremsden said lightly. "Your Wingleader has any questions, send him to me. He won't be the first and we're good at not answering questions in here."
Z'go listened and nodded as Cremsden explained the medine and how to use it. Numbweed seemed simple enough but the brownrider was wary of the pills, as he'd heard of more than one person becoming addicted to them if they weren't careful enough. It would've probably bothered the medic to know, but Z'go was already deciding that he would try them once and if they didnt sit well he'd probably try to slather up the numbweed until he felt better. "Thanks, Cremsden," he replied, taking the medicine in one hand. "Knew I could count on you, even if you do lose more than you win in dragonpoker." The brownrider winked and clapped the man, who probably won much more than Z'go gave him credit for, in gratitude. "Four days then. Try to put a muzzle on those apprentices of yours by then."
Blackadder: I mean, what about the people that do all the work?
Baldrick: The servants.
Blackadder: No, me; *I'm* the people who do all the work.