The problem with training an army of fifty magically generated waifus wasn't their enthusiasm. It was their interpretative dance of the instructions.
Reed walked onto the Casino Floor, holding a cup of coffee that he prayed was strong enough to handle reality.
"Status report," Reed muttered to himself, leaning against a newly installed obsidian pillar.
It was a disaster.
At the Blackjack tables, three Bone-Maids were dealing cards. Their dexterity was incredible, cards flew through the air like shuriken, but the sound was deafening. Every movement was a Clack-Rattle-Snap of skeletal joints. They looked less like dealers and more like a percussion section having a seizure.
"Too loud!" Reed shouted. "Less rattling, more shuffling!"
The Bone-Maids paused, looked at him with violet fire in their sockets, and gave him a synchronized, sassy hip-pop before resuming at half-speed.
Over at the bar, Luma was trying to be a cocktail waitress.
