Ogres were solitary enough that living together in a camp was already foreign; they naturally gave each other a fair amount of private space. On top of that, Fiona had been abundantly clear that her tent was off-limits to everybody. So while she'd always had a quiet worry about someone showing up uninvited, it hadn't ever actually occurred before.
But as she approached her tent, she heard a low voice inside. That wasn't right. She slapped the tent flap open and demanded, "What are you doing!?"
"Heeeeey!" It was the clown she'd kicked in the face.
Distributing morale had boosted her own, but it all evaporated with this intrusion. "Can I help you with something?" she said in a tone that could only be understood to be rhetorical. She shot Puss a gesture – you're just going to sit there while this guy's breaking and entering!? – then turned to stare down the interloper.
"Well, Ah know how stressful mounting a rebellion can be! Rallying the troops, planning the attacks — so I brought you a little something to ease the tension!"
His face wore a broad, plastic grin, and with both hands he proffered …
"A gift basket!?"
Fiona's face bent up with incredulity. I do not need this right now, she thought. She expected she'd be furious; such an incursion demanded swift punishment as a deterrent. But right now, she felt merely impatient. First, there was too much on her mind. Second, this dopey guy honestly seemed harmless. She actually felt a little bad for him. Maybe the stress of the war had cracked his nut.
Her face took on a barely-patient, amused smirk, dropping the hint that this wasn't really a welcome imposition.
"You're welcome," he pronounced. "So! Let's see what ye got."
He produced a squirming dessert tray. "Heart shaped box of slugs."
He produced a handmade jar candle. "Oooh! Skunk-scented candle! Mmmm!
Fiona interrupted the show. "Look, this really isn't the time—"
"And oooh!" he continued undeterred. Her eyes rolled back in her head and every feature on her face drooped in annoyance.
"What's this? COUPONS! Let's see, good for one free foot massage... a mud facial! Oh, and here's one: Good for one free kiss! Let's cash it now!" His puckered lips bulged right into her face.
Fiona, alarmed, stiff-armed him, arresting his advance. "Look. I don't know what this is all about, but I'm trying to run a revolution." She patted his shoulder as though breaking bad news to a child. "So unless you have Rumpelstiltskin's head in there, I suggest you take your gift basket," – her eyes glowered – "get out of my tent," – tendons popped from her neck – "and go make yourself useful."
"Wow. You're right. I am … sorry. I was just trying to be friendly. No hard feelings?" He extended his hand.
She'd seen men exchange hearty handshakes, but only as a part of her human experience; this was weirdly tactile for an ogre. Her brow furrowed as she met his hand. At least, if things got too weird, he'd just handed her a point of control.
"An apologetic hug?"
She was feeling a bit steered. She had extended this guy a lot of patience; too much. She patted his back noncommittally, but kept hold of his hand just in case—
"…aaand a quick kiss goodbye." His lips puckered right at her.
—of that. That clearly crossed the line. Frankly, being in her tent at all had crossed a line, and she was already low-key anxious about having not already given him a painful lesson to share with others. But a kiss? Hard nope.
Fiona exploited the control he'd put in her hand. She regripped his hand, stomped hard on a foot to immobilize him, then rapidly twisted his wrist behind his back. The physical domination worked instantly, dropping his thought process from talking and smooching to survival and pain management. The ogre's body complied immediately, bending to her will as his wincing tendons warned his reflexes that a wrong move would push him over into excruciating pain.
Having completely eliminated the physical threat, Fiona marched the wayward ogre to the door of the tent and shoved him through the flap.
She brushed the weird off her hands and shuddered. That whole experience shook her, both the unexpected behavior from the ogre, but also her own surprisingly patient reaction. She'd initially been dangerously patient; she was glad she'd gained control of the situation before it got out of hand.
"Where did we find that guy!?" she said to the tent flap. Making him into a useful soldier was unlikely to happen in the hours before the next engagement. Nevermind. She needed to clear her mind, relax a bit, get back in the zone.
"Could it be true?" Puss was absorbed with his reflection, somehow missing the entire interaction. "Have the years of cream and pampering made me soft?"
Actually, she could use little companionship from the safety of her pet. "Don't be silly," she scolded. "Now, who's a pretty kitty?"