Jensal has a lot of work to do. Her house is going to collapse; nobody had better be inside when it does. She is briskly bundling adult miracles into groups who have at least one decent job between them, she is writing to agencies that handle adoption for the ultimate disposition of kids who don't get picked up because she's reasonably sure that they will not all get picked up, and when parents do drop by to collect their little ones she is signing papers for every set of them with slightly gritted teeth. Lots to do. Her hand is cramping from paperwork and she doesn't care.
"Okay, great, awesome. Shrennaki! Fuck walking around obnoxiously in my natural form, I am going to get a shirt that says 'shrennaki' on it and wear it every day for the rest of my life!"
"I will have great fun finding a decent calligrapher to design it for me. And if they all turn out to be lizards I will design it myself."
"I am going to go startle Aurin immediately, but I'll take you with me if you want so you can watch him fall over."
He teleports them to Aurin's doorstep without waiting for a response.
Then he says: "The miracle workers fixed my language problem for me. Now I speak Reform Draconic. Sirasiahr."
He will generously give Aurin a tick to adjust to that before he lays the other one on him.
"I'm sorry. I'm probably not as sorry as I should be," Mial admits. He can't seem to stop grinning. "But you were going to encounter that word one way or another, because I'm going to be obnoxiously wearing it on a shirt for the foreseeable future as soon as I find a calligrapher who's willing to design the shirt. At least this way you heard it for the first time under controlled conditions, eh?"
"I won't terrify any small children with the shirt. And scoot safety has improved by leaps and bounds since I started racing."