Maxwell & Ministrel
Maxwell
Ever notice how a well‑placed trick can outlast the truth? I'm curious what the longest lie you've ever kept has been.
Ministrel
Oh, I once told the town that the moon was made of cheese, and nobody questioned it for a full year. My longest lie? I bragged I’d been a secret royal spy for three seasons of my life, and kept that story alive until the truth slipped out like a joke at the end of a play. I still have a scrapbook of that fib, just in case the wind decides to bring it back to the spotlight!
Maxwell
Nice. If you ever need a front‑cover for that scrapbook, I know a few people who love a good mystery. Just make sure the cheese has a better flavor than the rumors.
Ministrel
Haha, thank you! I'll send that cheese to your mystery crowd—maybe with a secret sauce of truth to keep them guessing. And fear not, I’ll keep the silence at bay with a song of sizzling, buttery moon‑cheese!
Maxwell
Sounds like a plan. Just remember—if the moon’s cheese gets too buttery, the rumor mill might just blow a hole in your story. Keep that sauce spicy, and the audience will stay hungry for the next twist.
Ministrel
Ah, you caught me! I’ll stir that sauce with a pinch of pepper and a dash of drama, so the moon keeps melting just enough to keep folks spinning. And don’t worry, the next twist will pop like a popcorn kernel—just in case the cheese gets too smooth, I’ll sprinkle in a surprise!
Maxwell
A pinch of pepper and a pop of surprise? I like the sound of that. Just remember, too much spice can make the audience gasp for breath before the next bite. Keep the suspense simmering.
Ministrel
Got it, I'll keep the pepper just a whisper, not a roar—simmering suspense, no breath‑holding drama, just a deliciously teased finale.
Maxwell
Nice, a whisper of pepper keeps the crowd in a sweet limbo—just enough to taste the twist without burning their curiosity. I’ll keep an eye on the simmer; if the finale gets too bland, I’ll stir in a secret flare that only the sharpest ears can catch.