Gwyneth groans. “Find another way to entertain yourself.”
“I’m educating. Be respectful.”
Everyone chuckles.
“So there are many a word,” I continue, settling more comfortably like I’ve just been invited to deliver a lecture nobody asked for but are absolutely getting anyway. “And each one carries avibe. A tone. A personality.”
Stan blinks his soulful brown eyes at me. I take that as encouragement.
“You’ve got your formal ones,” I say, ticking them off on my fingers. “Very proper. Very‘we’re discussing anatomy in a well-lit room with zero fun involved.’Then you’ve got the aggressive ones, which I personally think say more about the speaker than the floof in question.”
Hart coughs into his fist. Nash outright laughs. Theo presses his lips to my temple like he’s trying to behave and failing spectacularly. Malachi shakes his head, but he wears a smile.
Gwyneth pinches the bridge of her nose. “I cannot believe this is how we’re spending our time before a rebellion.”
“It’s morale boosting.”
“It’s not.”
“It absolutely is. Knowledge is power.”
Stan tilts his head, silver mane shimmering as he studies me like I’m a confusing puzzle. “And this floof is the preferred word of your people?”
“It is,” I confirm with a nod.
“No, it’syourpreferred word,” Charming adds, making me scowl at him.
“As queen, my first action will be to abolish all other words and make floof the language of the common tongue.”
“Maybe just replace one word with floof,” Hart advises. “Not all the words.”
I beam. “That makes more sense.”
“We’re doomed,” Charming decides.
Likely, but not over the word floof. What a dramatic mellow. I focus back on the majestic unicorn keeping pace to my right.
“Floof is soft. It’s inviting. It suggests comfort and excellent decision making.”
“It suggests fluff,” Stan says.
“That’s the point. It removes the intimidation factor.”
“Why would it need to be intimidating?” he asks.
There’s a long pause. Every single male, Genie included, suddenly finds something fascinating about the ground or the clear blue sky.
I fold my arms. “It is my observation that the majority of the male species is concerned with their own pleasure and not that of the floof granting them access. Really, they don’t tend to the very thing that makes them lose their breath and cross their eyes. They need help navigating our parts and calling it a word which is interchangeably used as a slur to our enemies is not going to invite exploration.”
There’s a rumble of laughter and agreement around us. Stan considers this, then nods slowly as if something profound has just clicked into place. “Ah. So this is a defensive naming strategy.”
“Exactly,” I say, delighted. “Because a happy floof is a productive floof, and being satiated and happy is a better starting position for negotiations.”
Gwyneth drops her hand from her face and looks at me like she’s reconsidering our entire shared existence. “You’ve just turned your anatomy into a battle tactic.”
“I’m a strategist,” I reply.
“You’re a menace.”
