Angelina leaned against the balcony railing, looking down at the crowded courtyard below.
Angelina: Snake, I sent a request to the U.N. years ago. A Snake protector and a pet CROw. Nothing. Not even a polite rejection.
Snake: The United Nations bureaucracy moves slower than a tranquilized turtle. Besides… their anthem blows.
Angelina: Their anthem?
Snake: Yeah. It needs a reboot. Something with a pulse. I already tested the idea.
Angelina: Tested it where?
Snake: In that Hugs Not Drugs video I made for you. The soundtrack had rhythm, hope, tension. Diplomacy needs better music.
Angelina raised an eyebrow.
Angelina: Who are you exactly? The Joseph Goebbels of the United Nations?
Snake smirked and shook his head.
Snake: Easy there. My weakness has always been damsels in distress. That’s my problem.
Angelina: That explains why you keep showing up when chaos starts.
Snake: Maybe. But propaganda minister? Not my style. I aspire to be more like a Leonardo da Vinci of the internet.
Angelina: That’s… quite the career pivot.
Snake: Think about it. Art, engineering, strange flying machines… except my canvas is the web.
Angelina: And the CROw?
Snake: Tactical support animal.
Angelina: Naturally.
Snake: Look, Jolie, if the U.N. won’t approve your Snake protector and CROw, we’ll improvise. That’s how missions get done.
Angelina: So the plan is… music revolution, internet renaissance, and reptile security?
Snake lit a cigarette and glanced toward the horizon.
Snake: In this world, that’s the most reasonable plan I’ve heard all week.
