"Yes, well, we can't have nasty beejums, bogans, and bazzlebaums marauding about now can we," says Auntie Mab, leaning against the ship's rigging, totally exhausted from the long jungle trek. "It would've been nice to recover more of that treasure, though."
"But... maybe we'll get some kind of commendation or civic achievement award back in Daunton that comes with a cash prize!," she speculates, eyes brightening considerably. "Yes, yes, I can just see it now. Mayor Brunt giving us all medals. The founding families shaking our hands. Our names cataloged alongside those of The Five in the great library. Poor little Yenros recovered from his illness. Luran himself putting in an appearance to personally thank-," Mab's reverie is cut off abruptly by Tristram, who nips the old woman's finger to get her attention, and shakes his head, giving his mistress a withering look.
"Oh Tristram, you're such a pessimist. But, you're probably right. Still, wouldn't it be wonderful?," she says, staring wistfully out to sea.