“So nice of you to drop by,” the host said genially, though with a clack of exposed teeth.

“My pleasure,” his guest hissed, “Minions can be so tiresome to talk to.”

The host glanced at his servant, attempting to open a jar of dijo with claws, “Yes, quite.”

“Do you mind if I remove the cowl? So cumbersome to drink tea around,” asked his guest.

“Not at all.”

“Well, the scars put some people off.”

“You think I would mind?” They both laughed a hearty, cackling laugh, throwing their heads back, the torch light glinting off the host’s boney face.

“Seriously though,” the guest said with a sigh, “I don’t know why I do it anymore.”

“Does seem futile sometimes.”

“And honestly, if I achieve world domination or spread terror, what’s the point? The whole world’s going to pot…” His train of thought was interupted by a scantily clad sorceress passing by.

His host sighed, “But you just can’t beat the company, eh.”

With a raised glass, his guest toasted, “To evil plans and bad girls.”