“Not gonna lie," Sigg said. "I’m pretty sickened about that menu option.”
“Gutt told me it’s more like stew," I emphasized. "Not like fried critter.”
“Must be,” Sig insisted. “Cause I don’t know of any snakes OR gators laying eggs the size of those.”
“Bro, can't you read? The substance is going to lend you some type of superpower! Does that alter your outlook any?”
“I very highly doubt that’s what those instructions say,” he reflected, with great concern. “Wait let me guess - that’s what the Old man will have you believe.”
Apparently, the sigils weren't translating for him. I had to play dumb. “Yeah, he reads Creole annndd, Babylonian.”
“Maybe starting to add up,” he cracked. “I do see a lot of Babel!”
Pheo suddenly popped up like a weasel over Siggy’s shoulder. “Sneaking away with the cool stuff, eh? Are those grenades?”
“Noo, these aren’t stealth bombs,” I told her. “More like Souped Up protein shakes.”