Lizio sauntered up to the bar, a highball glass full of fly squeezins in one hand.

“Ladies,” he said. “Mind if I join you?”

“Ew,” said the first lady, some kind of skink. “We don’t like lounge lizards.”

“Yeah,” the second, some sort of monitor, added. “Get lost.”

“Well, if you hate lounge lizards, then you must hate yourself. And I find nothing helps self-loathing more than a little bug juice. What do you say? I’m buying.” Lizio licked his eyes in their sockets and grinned.

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