Duck doesn't often say it out loud, but he definitely doesn't think Amara's position as 'event coordinator' does much for a town locked in hell- it doesn't make him treat her any differently, of course- no, that, at its core, is because he doesn't trust people who strike him as 'fancy.' She's every bit the kind of high-end, too much money not enough sense sort he derides at any opportunity, and the fact her job in town had seemed to boil down to 'parties, weddings, and funerals' made the gruff warden a little less... forgiving, when he was called to deal with something. But here he stood, on the front steps of the dance hall with his walkie in hand and a scowl on his face. "Heard you had a critter problem, Mrs. Courtier." He chimes. "Raccoon in th' rafters again? Possum in the bar back?" Surely something someone else could have chased out. "I'm also gonna need ya to pay me for it this time- Can't keep riskin' rabies pro-bono."
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