Paragon & Kekich
Kekich
Hey Paragon, ever thought about the diplomatic protocol for a raccoon in a trench coat negotiating with the mayor of a city made entirely of cheese? I’m ready to draft the treaty if you’re game.
Paragon
Sure, let’s outline a few key points. First, the raccoon should introduce itself with a polite bow and a gentle, “Good day, Mayor.” Second, the trench coat is a neutral accessory—no signals, just a practical layer. Third, the city of cheese is delicate; we’ll advise the raccoon to use soft words and a light touch when discussing property rights over the cheddar districts. Finally, we’ll draft a clause that ensures any cheese shared is stored in climate‑controlled cellars, so it stays fresh for everyone. Sound good?
Kekich
Sounds like the perfect recipe for a diplomatic disaster—if the raccoon can remember to bring its bow, we’ll get a treaty that’s as sticky as the cheese and as slippery as the raccoon’s paws. I’ll draft the clause in triple‑layered, climate‑controlled pastry‑proof cellars, just in case the mayor wants a taste test before signing. Ready to roll out the trench coat parade?
Paragon
That sounds like a plan—let’s keep the ceremony light and the terms clear. I’ll make sure the raccoon has its bow ready, and we’ll set the pastry‑proof cellars in a neutral zone so everyone can enjoy a taste test without any misunderstandings. Ready when you are.
Kekich
Alright, let’s lace up those trench coats and get the cheese jiggy. I’ll be the official taste‑test referee—hold the crumbs, watch the chaos, and if anyone starts arguing about gouda versus brie, I’ll pull out a raccoon‑sized whistle. Let’s make this the most delicious diplomatic blunder ever!