Suddenly (after a very long delay) a big black truck with dark-tinted windows backs up in front of Anarion's place. Several black-suited men with dark shades get out and open up the back, extend a ramp, and go inside. The logo on the black truck is a discreet line of white text: 'MI6 Mythological Division'
A flurry of hollow, metallic sounds like tiny hooves on metal echo out of the back of the truck... turning out to actually be tiny hooves on the metal flooring of the truck, then the ramp, as a small herd of about half a dozen sparkly-maned unicorns in rainbow colours prance out of the truck, down the ramp, and into Anarion's garden. None of them are any bigger than your average sheep. One of them begins to nibble the nearest flower, but not like he means anything by it.
One of the men brings a clipboard to Anarion, asking her to sign here, and there, and down there, and initial here, here, here, and there. He then instructs her in a no-nonsense tone, "They eat snickerdoodles and drink ginger-ale, and tend to get rather randy around sundown, so don't bend over near them then, unless you're looking for some adventure; although, they generally take care of all that amongst themselves, as a rule. If they get too agitated, reading them some smutty fanfic usually does the trick, though stick to that no bending over rule for a while after. Just to be sure."
They close up the truck then, and drive away without another word.
DELIVERY...
A flurry of hollow, metallic sounds like tiny hooves on metal echo out of the back of the truck... turning out to actually be tiny hooves on the metal flooring of the truck, then the ramp, as a small herd of about half a dozen sparkly-maned unicorns in rainbow colours prance out of the truck, down the ramp, and into Anarion's garden. None of them are any bigger than your average sheep. One of them begins to nibble the nearest flower, but not like he means anything by it.
One of the men brings a clipboard to Anarion, asking her to sign here, and there, and down there, and initial here, here, here, and there. He then instructs her in a no-nonsense tone, "They eat snickerdoodles and drink ginger-ale, and tend to get rather randy around sundown, so don't bend over near them then, unless you're looking for some adventure; although, they generally take care of all that amongst themselves, as a rule. If they get too agitated, reading them some smutty fanfic usually does the trick, though stick to that no bending over rule for a while after. Just to be sure."
They close up the truck then, and drive away without another word.