The Peach is walking a fine line here; is he admitting modesty and extending recognition — or handing off blame? He, of course, thinks he’s giving credit where credit is due, but the commander doesn’t understand anything but blame. If he had any real power, his men wouldn’t be giggling in front of his face. He’s a sneak, himself, and so thinks everybody else is, too.

The Peach is getting snotty and short-tempered with him.  He’s been dealing with keeping his men out of this stupid war thing, and it’s beginning to get on his nerves.  He has no idea how deep he’ll wade into this quicksand before it’s over.

I did NOT plan any of this; I’m a strictly organic writer.  As it grows, it grows.  I’m working an intern very hard right now, but my writer and drawing lessons consist of:  “Go find out things and then communicate what you think. And spell it right.” Art and writing are about discovery — at least the good stuff.  If you want to learn genre, then, sure, get ahold of a teacher and copy everything he (and I mean “HE” does).  If you want to be a pioneer, have your own voice, and own your own copyright — be prepared to take arrows in your forehead.