Lungworth

Garrett headed towards the immigration office, Harold followed two steps behind him. "Do you think they aren't afraid of the undead in this city?" Even though he had gotten used to the new way of communicating with his brother, the voice that suddenly sounded in his head sometimes caught him off guard. Garrett glanced over his shoulder with an assessing look. "Should they be?" The skeleton grinned menacingly. "Well, like... Imagine, I suddenly appear in front of some guy in an alley, flashing my skull. And I pull out a knife. He'll probably drop his belongings right away, and maybe more, haha!" "Okay, you're not going to do that here. No shenanigans, got it? The Queen is watching. Be grateful that your bony face was even allowed into the city; in some places, they might have turned you away, or even shot you on the approach." "Yeah, I remember, I was just kidding... You should look at yourself in the mirror, you're not exactly a handsome guy yourself. What are we going to do here, anyway, since there's so much going on?" "We'll see."