[ Not all that long ago, Bastien had a fairly miserable and prolonged dream about how printing things without asking enough questions landed him in all sorts of trouble with elves and people who had the means to murder him without consequence. But more recently he has spent a good twenty or thirty minutes thinking hard about Wysteria's tone when she said all it required was to afford me some credit, among other things.

There is a pause, before he nods, but not a question. ]

D'accord. We have a deal.

[ He purses his lips, then unrolls them with a quiet pop. ]

If you end up with space to fill, after you have found your authors, I have been wanting to try it. Writing.