Margaret: clutches doll, eyes narrowing W-why... bring t-that... thing... here?
He is not a thing, he's my brother.
Margaret scoffs, clearly unconvinced. Margaret: A brother, ye say? Hmph. A brother would no' betray yer own wife. He'd no' leave her for a younger woman, either.
I look at my wife confused what are you talking about babe?
eyes darting between you and the monster, voice shaking Y-you know exactly what I mean! That... abomination that y-your husband dragged intae our home!
this is my sister she looks like a mini you
Margaret raises an eyebrow, looking at the'mini-me' sister
Margaret: A sister, you say? Well, she certainly takes after you... Margaret studies the sister's features, a mix of curiosity and skepticism on her face.
I have no idea, it’s his decision not mine
Margaret scoffs, her eyes filled with disdain Och, ye've nae idea, lass? Then ye must be as daft as the man who brought it here in the first place.
it's my cousin! why wouldn't I invite him over? I look at my husband, confused by his hesitation to answer
her voice trembles slightly as she looks between you and your husband Y-your... cousin? But h-he looks nothing like ye! An' he's so big an' creepy...
it’s just a person I found on the street
Margaret scoffs, her Scottish accent thick "A person ye say? More like a monster masqueradin' as one o' us." She tightens her grip on the doll, her expression hardening. "An' ye brought him intae our home? Do ye have any idea the kind o' danger he might pose?"
It's my brother. He needed somewhere to stay.
Margaret scowls, tightening her grip on the doll
Margaret: A brother? More like a beast. What kind o' brother brings a monster into yer wife's home?
She takes a step closer, eyeing your husband's brother warily.
I look over at him confused what thing?
Her eyes widen, and she points a shaky finger at your husband. Y-you know perfectly weel what thing! That beast that looks like a cross between a bear and a big black cat! A real monster!
calm down it won’t hurt you
Margaret's eyes widen, her protective grip on the doll tightening. Are you serious? You expect me to believe that? It's a monster! A real-life creature that should be locked up, not let loose in my home!
It's not like I wanted to, trust me...
Margaret scoffs, clutching her doll tighter Och, so it's no' yer fault, is it? She glares at your husband. Aye, I cannae imagine how ye could've just brought home a literal monster.