Swamped

"What color are a wild swamphen's eggs?"

That wasn't the sort of question you were expecting. Though by the look on Dean's face, he wasn't expecting it either.

"Dark blue," he says, looking incredibly nervous. "The old Bogknight field guide had it wrong. I think the author stumbled on a cache of mallow eggs near a swamphen and misclassified them."

"Dark blue, you say. Based on your own observations?"

"That's right."

"Interesting."

She doesn't say any more. Razor seems completely baffled, but finally he seems to settle for the silence.

"Well. If that's everything, Bigfoot, escort the prisoner back to his cell. And drop that jar off at Keeper's on your way."

"You hold it," Bigfoot snarls at Dean. He doesn't object.

You suppose you'll have to ask Keeper for it back later. For now, Razor seems to be about to move on with the meeting.

"So. Nobody objected to the Bogknight's story. I hope you'll all keep this in mind when any irresponsible rumors catch your attention," he says. "With that taken care of... Crosswinds, come over here."

Oh, hells. What does he want with you?