Wolves

“Just how many wolves were you planning on making?”

“As many as it takes.”

“That... makes no sense at all. Neither does it provide a meaningful answer to my question.”

“Look, wolves take a lot of practice, okay? I mean, see that batch over there?”

“Yikes. What happened to them?”

“That was from last month. I got cocky. Maybe a little drunk. Anyway, I tried improvising off the formula.”

“And all their hair came off?”

“It turned into scales, first. Then...”

“Then?”

“The scales caught fire and melted into some sort of acid, okay? Not my proudest moment.”

“I can see why. I'm surprised they're alive.”

“Well, there was an interesting side-effect. They seem to be immortal.”

“What, so you tried to kill them?”

“Ganymede thought it would be better to have them put down since they seem to be perpetually in pain. We're still working on a way to accomplish that.”

“So no more experimenting for you, then?”

“Not until I have the fundamentals down, anyway. Ganymede says it's a good thing we're so far on the outskirts or I might have gotten in trouble for that one.”

“What's this batch for, then?”

“Just refining little things. Tooth color. Fur texture. The sort of little details that really make a wolf work, y'know?”

“I guess. But, um... keep practicing.”