With a pair of wide and boggly eyes staring down upon it, the fearsome sun learing into it's reflective surface, the golden key glinted effortlessly with each turn amongst the sand. Pippin had held the key tight and close since plucking it from Megaera's grasp; it was a token of victory, of success, the kind of token he'd never recieved before. The only thing he had ever had to show for a battle before had been torn flesh and beaten wings - now he had this.
Glancing down to the other key he had in his possession, one which was easily distinguished from the one recovered from the Sunspear due to it's lack of scratches and chips, Pippin gave a decided nod. He would hand that one into the Sultan and Sultana... and keep Megaeras one for himself. This one was special.

Finally reeling his keen eyes away from the two treasured at his feet, Pippigrin collected them and tangled them within his mane for safe keeping; they never fell out that way, especially when he wrapped a rather knotty lock around his horn a few times and attached the key to one of the loops.
Gaze training upwards to the sky, Pip caught sight of a familiar beast. It was one he didn't exactly like, but only because he frightened him - it was a red dragon, one of the two who could usually be found following the Sultan. "H-hello Vérzés" Pippigrin cooed to the beast, who by some stretch of the imagination appeared to be looking for him.  Slowly shaking his slingshot from it's place upon his left horn, pippin took a hold of the handle in his mouth, slotting it into it's mount upon his leg guard... just to be safe.

Compelled to follow, Pippigrin tucked his tail and slowly trod after the beast, one who was soon lost over the dunes. Sheepishly peering around, the halfing instead decided to use his other senses besides just his sight - something he didn't try very often.  Though, sure enough, he did manage to capture the Sultan's scent upon the breeze. Upwind he travelled, silently approaching the place of the meeting from behind the two gathered (only he still remained unnaware that it was a meeting).
Standing a good twenty feet or so from the Sultan and Sultana's backsides, Pippin gave a muffled giggle. Two targets, sitting ducks. While he remained quite positive that Mrs. Ampere wouldn't take so well to being struck on the bot-bot*, he was sure Mr. Volterra would see the fun in it would he not?
Though, as he went to snatch the end of his slingshot, Pippigrin came to the realisation that he had no ammo. This wasn't like all the other times this week at the oasis where he had collected giant piles of pebbles, shells, old coral, and other debris and fired it at whatever target he could find. He had nothing! Drisgruntled and disheartened, the halfling gave a great groan, only to realise he actually did have one, or two, shiny pieces of shrapnel...

Plucking the newly-forged key from his mane, Pippin eagerly loaded it into his slingshot and bent his knee to aim, grasping the key between his incisors as it sat lodged in the leather pouch.
Aiming was somewhat difficult; he shook, and it was a bit of a distance. And, while did have a bit of practise on his side, as usual a good measure of doubt began to creep into his mind. What if it missed? what if he got into trouble?
On the count of three, he told himself.
One, Two...
PING!