Repurposed | Quirrel x Sheo x Nailsmith

Chapter Twenty One: In Which Monomon Said

"-and I'm terribly afraid to inform you that neither Miss Monomon nor I will be able to attend your next meeting. Although we've tried our best to do so, we've been unsuccessful in clearing our schedules and have many matters to attend to that simply cannot be rescheduled. We give our most sincere apologies, and hope that you find it in your heart to excuse our behavior." Quirrel read what he had written aloud to Monomon, who listened carefully, scanning for errors.

After a thoughtful pause she nodded, "Sounds convincing."

"Do you really think so?" Quirrel asked with doubt. "This is going to be the third time in a row we've skipped out on a summon by The King. Surely he's caught on by now?"

Despite what her high status might otherwise have a bug believe, Monomon hated politics, or maybe more accurately, she hated how The King saw politics. She couldn't care less about how he still had hope for Deepnest and was going to go ahead with the production of the tramway, nor how there were still many Unn worshipers in Fungal Wastes and he was looking for solutions on the best ways to disband them. She didn't care to increase The King's rule either, as she had many grievances with it as it currently stood. No, she used her status to get things done, and novels could be written listing everything that had to be done to keep The Archives running on the daily.

"Oh, he'll get over it," Monomon flicked her hand dismissively. They were in her office, so there was no way anyone would overhear her, but even still Quirrel grew nervous at her loudness and nonchalant attitude. "He always does. Now, let's seal up that note."

When she picked up the letter and skimmed over its contents, her face became confused. "Um, Quirrel, dear. You've used the wrong 'Ms'."

"No I haven't," he shook his head as he pointed to the silk paper. "Miss Monomon," he read aloud. "Miss."

"No, Quirrel, it's Ms," she corrected, her years of teaching making an appearance. "Miss is for young girls and young unmarried women, Ms is for unmarried women, and Mrs is for married women."

"Yeah, so... Miss," Quirrel was confused. "You're a young unmarried woman."

Monomon burst out laughing.

Quirrel stared at her for a moment, then shocked and panicked asked, "Wait, you're married?"

That made Monomon laugh even harder, and it took a while for her to regain her composure.

"Married? Oh, gods no. No, no, no." she said in between laughs. "And I'm certainly not young enough for you to be calling me Miss! Ha! Oh, I had no idea you were getting it wrong this whole time!" Monomon was young, yes, especially compared to her equals. But calling her Miss, why, that was practically equating her to a toddler!

Quirrel's face burned with embarrassment, and for a while he couldn't speak.

"I'm sorry for laughing, dear," Monomon put a comforting hand on his shoulder once her laughter was completely under control. "Language is hard and doesn't make sense, I know that better than anyone."

"It's fine, Ms. Monomon," Quirrel said very quietly, avoiding eye contact.

She stared at him strangely for a moment. "You know what, I've just realized something."

He looked up at her expectalty.

"I don't like it when you call me Ms or Miss."

For some reason, Quirrel panicked at that. "Then what should I call you Ms- er, ma'am?"

Monomon snickered, "Definitely not ma'am!" She thought for a moment. "Just call me Monomon."

Quirrel's eyes widened and he quickly declined. "That- that would be incredibly disrespectful and far too casual for me to even seriously consider-"