"And, I'm not looking forward to outdoing Ice and Cypress at all, nope. That would be petty. If incredibly justified."
And that is when he flops most of his weight onto Iobel, mischievously.
"Oh, can you? I feel faint, not allowing any sort of pettiness - it's getting to me!"
"Maybe you should do something just a little petty. I'm not sure I can lift you."
"Hmmm. His crown looks prickly and uncomfortable and I bet it's hard for people to take him seriously in it. There, do you think that was enough?"
"Then maybe it will do. But you may collapse again at any moment and I'm short on ideas for further pettiness, so perhaps you'd best flop somewhere."
"Yes, that's wise. And later, when I have recuperated my energy, I will resume my usual, non-petty existence."
"What will be left of you if you are without your noble stand against pettiness?" she asks, ushering him in the direction of his bedroom.
She ruffles his pretty hair. "You'll be a very well-turned-out skeleton."
"Are your non-skeletal parts all made of antipettiness? How does this dovetail with you being weak and listless when you refrain?"
"Oh, fine," he snorts. "My body will be totally fine, it's my mind you have to worry about."