I-it never will be. Sir.

[ gulps, then begins chanting ]

With loyalty to fur and wool
I swear with my heart, howling, bleating
As the Great Factory's humble tool
With purpose will I do thy bidding

Whether words spoken, read, written or bled
The contract will be fulfilled in full or red.

[ as he chants, the red cuff begins to glow. light forms around the tumbleweed's neck; the Pine Workshop's sigil appears in the air, a smoky hologram not unlike the ward above Rose barn.

Sheep Fiend bleats.

do you touch the sigil? do you simply watch? or something else? ]