“I actually just finished my drink,” confessed the Hoopoe.
“Want another one on me? I’ve been looking forward to a smoothie.”
The Hoopoe shrugged. “Sure.” He ordered a superfood shot, and Ravl Pliskin got a smoothie. They went to sit at the side of the bar overlooking the beach.
“Mmm,” said the executive as his berry & pitch-syrup blend hit his tongue. “Hey – I’m sorry we’re asking you to hide right now. It was not our intent to put you in any mortal danger greater than was already intrinsic to the project.”
The Hoopoe sipped his ultra-green shot good-naturedly. “I stand to gain a lot – despite not having had much of a choice when you set your proposal, that took me some working out to get over.”
“I just gave you a chance to cash out before the game turned against you, and hopefully the outcome is that we both win. I’m satisfied with the talent you’ve brought to the table.” Ravl took a really long suck on his smoothie and finished it with a sigh. “Delicate dealing on our hands right now. Some of the potential advances we’re holding could change the balance of current tensions, which is why we’re trying to keep you all out of it as much as possible. But we’re also working out the profit scheme. Maybe bananas, so hang in there.”
“I’m imagining a banana dance out there on the sand.”
“I like it.”
“Just remember, I’m still a young man. I’m not ready to die. I’m ready to party.”
“Yeah. Let’s do the party. Until then, you don’t have to worry. Call me Ravl.”