"He runs the place," Morrison responds. "Don't let him tell you otherwise. Joe, this is April." 

"Ms. Turnberry," he says. "Welcome to Jenny's Bay and Saint Genevieve. And allow me to offer you condolences on the passing of your uncle Jake." 

"Seems more like I should be offering condolences to all of you."

"Thank you," he says. "All of us here appreciate it. And we're all looking forward to working with you, Ms. Turnberry." 

"Can't imagine why."

"Your uncle picked you personally for the position," he says. "And even if your management style is nothing like his, from what I hear you're probably just as brilliant as he is, and we can use your expertise." 

"I was just telling April about the dolphins," Morrison says. 

He cocks his head. "Did you now? Did you tell her of our woes?" 

"Where the hell have you been hearing I'm brilliant? —we didn't get to the point of any woes, she just said some vaguely threatening things about them while I made faces."

"From Pippi, at least partly," he says. "Though we have other sources as well, of course. And your uncle has some insight into your family. Had some," he adds after a moment. He shakes off the feeling. "The dolphins are thinking about going on strike," he adds, to change the subject. 

"...well, what are their demands?"

"Mostly they don't think they're being treated well enough, but they always think that," Williams says. "You can go talk to them if you'd like." 

"Maybe we should give April an overview first," Morrison suggests. "Let her know what's going on here in general before she has to go and deal with the dolphins." 

"Listen, every time I try to ask you what crazy shit you're going to spring on me next you're like 'nooo, what? Me? Spring crazy shit on you? No way!' and then it turns out your crime lair is guarded by dolphin gangs, so at this point I have accepted that your idea of keeping me well informed is useless and I might as well just roll with the crazy shit as it comes up. Let's go negotiate with the dolphin union, why the fuck not."

"Diving straight into the deep end, then?" Williams says. "I like her, she's brave." 

"Not as smart as we thought, maybe, but brave," Morrison agrees, with a smirk around her eyes. 

Eyeroll.

Williams leads the way for the three of them, down a path leading to the dolphin lagoon. A short hike later, and April can see it as they crest a small hill. It's an artificial lagoon, a few hundred meters long, in which a few dozen dolphins are swimming around and playing with one another in no particular pattern that April can detect. But near an interior wall, six of them are gathered in two rows of three, squeaking loudly at a woman in a wetsuit. 

This is April's concerned face.

As they get closer, the main dolphin, the one in the front, notices the people approaching, including April.

The dolphin chitters into a microphone near the end of the pool. 

"And who the hell is this fucknugget?" a voice says, from a nearby speaker. 

The other dolphins chitter as well. "Fucknugget! Fucknugget!" the speakers render voices chanting in unison. 

"Hello to you too!" she says cheerfully, keeping well back from the edge of the water. "Some shady character is trying to sell me on the volcano lair crime boss lifestyle. I'm not sure I'm convinced yet. So, what's all the fuss about?"

The woman in the wetsuit looks back to see the people approaching, then turns back to the dolphins. "That's your new boss, you thumbless cretins." she tells them. "You might want to consider putting on a good impression for once in your lives."

"Fuck her! Fuck impressions! And fuck your manucentric worldview!"

"No, honestly I like it when I walk into a room and everyone starts chanting 'fucknugget'. It sets expectations."

"It's not what you think," the person in the wet suit says, standing up and walking towards April. "Manus is Latin for 'hand'. 'Manucentric is their new go-to word when they want to accuse us of bigotry."