TheExperimentHarryAndJulesAlong with his other exercises in preparation for the experiment, Giulian had been studying maps of the lower city, so he had at least a theoretical knowledge of how to find the address given him by Jovanna. After a brief glance around to get his bearings, he turned and set off down the street. "Now, comes the tricky part," Harold said. "I was not too far away from here recently," he admitted. "At least, to the tune of a sweets shop and coffeehouse. But this was not where I was." He followed Giulian, trying as hard as he could to not look out of place. "What's your address?" Giulian queried, swinging along at a good pace. Harold looked at the envelope's contents briefly. "19 Maiden Lane," he read and then looked to Giulian. "Is that far from yours?" "About a block over, I think," said Giulian. "But we can stick together as far as Cat Street." "Sounds good." Harold said, giving a backward glance on the street. "Let's get moving." He took the lead, still sparing glances to the side and behind them as they headed for the designated intersection. "It's like being offworld." Harold said. "Being exposed like this." "Oh? And how did you deal with it then?" Giulian asked, interested. "It was easier, paradoxically," Harold said. "With even less of a safety net. Sure, I had the companions on the ship and never usually went far from them." He blushed slightly, with memories that Giulian could easily guess as exceptions to that rule. "But without the House as a safety net to run back to, I had to develop self-reliance. Not intended as specific training for the Dukedom, but the effect works just as well. "I imagine that my brother found a similar set of situations, although I understand that while he was away longer, he spent much of his time on Earth. I had a more catholic education in what the galaxy is like." Giulian didn't comment on Decuma's travels, or studies, of which he had at least an inkling, only remarking humorously, "At least you didn't have your itinerary chronicled in Aquila Awake!" Harold laughed. "That, at the very least, is a relief. Our mistakes haunt us oft enough without them being published for all to see." "Did you follow the series too, then?" Giulian asked. "While you were still on Aquila, that is." Harold grinned. "Yes, I will admit to reading it. Not that I keep copies casually around, of course." "Of course not," agreed Giulian, who had kept a file of the articles in order to share the joke with his cousin. A narrow alley opened off of the wider street they were traversing. Recalling it from his map, Giulian nodded toward it. "If we cut down that way, we'll save at least half a block." Harold peered down the alley. For a long moment his eyes pierced it, as if deciding the risk was worth it. A pensive glance to Giulian, and he decided with a nod. "All right," he said. "Stick close to me." "I'll do my best," replied Giulian, swinging himself around to enter the alleyway. Harold started down the alley, giving sidelong glances to Giulian about every ten paces as shadows and darkness wrapped around them like a winter's cloak. He set his face to a stoic neutrality and pressed on, moving as quickly as he dared to push Giulian. As they made their way down the the alley and had gotten well off the main street, they came abruptly upon two figures sitting huddled in the alley. The two young men were dressed shabbily with their backs to the wall. One appeared to be sleeping. The other looked up at them, his face unshaved, but his eyes bright and blue. There was a touch of desperation mixed with hope as he said, "Please sirs? Me and me little brother ain't ate proper for a week now..." He looked to the shorter resting figure next to him. "And he's been trying to fight the fever off. Might you have a little coin to spare us? "Please," he said earnestly, "for him then, if not fer me." Harold slowed his gait, and finally decided to stop, once he and Giulian were just about across from the beggars. Harold considered this and then murmured, softly enough that only they, and Giulian could hear. "Of all the people." When Harold paused, Giulian did too, easing off imperceptibly on his crutches, while peering at the two beggars through his blue-tinted glasses. Harry reached into his clothes for the coin purse that was part of the outfit, his fingers undoing the ties and reaching in without drawing the purse itself into view. Fingers closed upon, felt, and withdrew a silver coin, bright and shiny even in the limited light. The "little brother" remained perfectly still except for the regular rise and fall of his narrow chest. Oddly-colored eyes glittered in the dim light, and large hands lay motionless, palms up, at his side. His breath was a rasp, like a file on metal. Big Brother scrambled to his feet, and made a small and anxious bow to Harry and Giulian. "Thank you generous sirs!" he emphasized with a quick nod of his head and he extended his palm to accept the coin. "And God bless the both of you's too," he added in a sincere tone. Harold firmly placed the coin in Big Brother's hand. Giulian indicated Little Brother with a tilt of his chin and said in a low but carrying voice, "And if you can get him to Dr. Greywood's clinic, they'll treat him there." Right on cue, Little Brother gave a nasty hacking cough which racked his skinny frame. He choked something which might have been, "Med'cine." "The clinic," Big Brother nodded, "yes... Right you are," he replied as he deftly pocketed the coin. Then the gratitude and humbleness started to fade from his face, like make-up running in the rain. "But we'll need money to pay the Doctor," he breathed. All pretense was cast aside as Big Brother reached to seize Harry's wrist in his strong grip. "Your money, gentle sirs," he demanded roughly, "we've no need for anyone to be hurt." Giulian's eyes widened a little, but that was the only sign of surprise he gave as Devon's hard training began to take effect. His balance shifted almost automatically, leaving one crutch free to swing, though he didn't bring it up yet. In the darkened alley, it would appear that he'd frozen in place, in shock or fear. Harold winced as Big Brother's grip closed on his wrist. Unable or unwilling to pull away or free of it, he set his leg on the ground and looked at Big Brother. A grimace filled his face. His other hand slowly balled itself into a fist of its own accord. "Let go of me," Harold said in a pain-laden voice. The faintest hiss alerted the two nobles that Little Brother had risen, and with a quick, serpentine movement, placed himself between them and the possible exit down the alley in the other direction. He remained silent, his form slouched and lazy, but his right hand was now playing with the buttons of his coat, fingers moving exceptionally quickly. Big Brother's eyes narrowed, and he started to reach behind his back and underneath his coat for something. Those blue eyes trying to hold Harold's attention like a cobra. "Just give us what we want, and make it easy on yourself," Big Brother growled, and Harold finally got a good whiff of the man's strong breath... but the grip on his arm relaxed just a little as his other hand searched behind his own back. "Don't go start thinkin' you can save anybody," he sneered. "Your gimp friend can't even run... and I ain't gonna ask you again..." He's going for a knife. With the speed that Devon had drilled into him, and fueled by an anger he hadn't known he possessed (maybe it was the remark about 'your gimp friend' that did it), Giulian made his move. Balanced on two legs and one crutch, he swung the other crutch hard in a shallow sideways arc aimed to connect with Big Brother's knee. Big Brother lurched in pain and released Harry, his blue eyes now bulging. "Run, Harry!" Giulian shouted as loud as he could, so that the sound echoed off the alley walls. "You rotten son of a whore!!" bellowed Big Brother at Giulian as the blow to his knee, his central nervous system, and his brain all finally played connect-the-dots. Harold didn't run, stunned by Giulian's reaction. Unwilling to abandon Giulian to the ruffian, Harold's balled fist came up, and surprising himself, he aimed it for Big Brother's nose and threw moderate force behind it. Harry struck his nemesis squarely in the face. The young man's face, only a second ago contorted with rage, born of pain, suddenly became merely pain -- born of pain. Big Brother staggered back against the wall of the alley, one hand reaching up to cover his nose as his eyes squinted. However, he had to lower that hand quickly to the wall to catch himself, as he realized that his knee would have trouble supporting him. In his other fist, however, was clenched a knife. Recovering from the swing, Giulian momentarily rebalanced himself while darting his gaze toward Little Brother. "'Ware knife, Harry," he rapped out. Little Brother, by this time, had a knife in each hand and had switched his attention from his brother to Giulian and Harry with an expression of confusion mixed with anger. "So you kids want to play fisticuffs?" he growled. "Fine. But we can -- and will -- make you bleed for your trouble. Valuables on the ground now... and you still get away free, even though you hurt my brother. You're not gonna get a better offer." Harold stared at the other assailant and backed up a half pace, looking from one brother, to the other. He quickly came to a decision. "Blood is cheaper than self-respect," Harold said. "I won't let you steal mine away from myself. Or Jules'. You've already lost your own, to be driven to do this." Harold watched the two brothers warily, waiting. "Admit that you made a mistake," said Giulian in a hard voice. "Two of us, two of you, one of you is injured, and my weapons have reach on yours. Let us pass and we'll say no more about it." Big Brother's face twisted a little at Harry's words, and Giulian's commanding tone... seemed to have the opposite effect. Big Brother appeared to choke back on the pain and anger to assert a more predatory demeanor. "Jules is it...?" he said in a much softer yet colder voice. "Reach you may have, but that was a tricksy move... 'Master Jules'." He had an almost reproachful tone. "Fakin' bein' afraid so you could crack me in the leg. You still need least one of those. Pity I'm gonna break them both over your friend's head whilst you lay there and watch." He didn't look at Little Brother, but the fierce look in his eyes said that discussion and bargining had come to a close. "Take him. Mind the stick." Meanwhile, the knife held firmly, Big Brother advanced on Harry, with a lurching pained step. He didn't move quickly but rather took his time (having actually little choice in that). He was trying to circle around and keep Harry between himself and Giulian... not out of fear, but so that he could 'stick' Lord Harold with less interference. Harold stepped back another pace, watching Big Brother, watching the way he held the knife, trying to judge his chances against it. The fact that Big Bro wanted it a one on one fight, Harold did not dispute by his movements. He was far more concerned for Giulian than himself. Then, decision made, both hands balled into fists, Harold reclaimed the pace he stepped back and gritted his teeth as Big Brother, and his knife, neared him. Little Brother sighed theatrically. He had not seemed affected by either of the young lords' comments. While still out of Giulian's range, he palmed one of his knives and picked up a board from the place he had been "resting." He kept his odd, milky-green eyes on his opponent throughout. Giulian shifted slightly so that he was back to back with Harry. He tried to keep a sense of where Big Brother was, while focusing his attention more on Little Brother. Having his back to a wall would be even better, but he probably wouldn't get a chance of that now. Big Brother grinned, despite the pain, at this reversal of fortune in he and his 'brother's' favor. He shifted the knife to his left hand, and then advanced on Harold. He swung with his strong right fist, holding the knife in reserve. He would force Harold to block (or get smashed with a fist), and when Harry did, the knife would snake forward to try and slice into him. A devil's choice came to Harry. Take the shot with the fist, and defend the knife, or block the punch. The punch seemed too valid not to bring up his arm to defend it. As he did so, he growled in pain as he left his opposite upper arm open to Big Brother's blade. Clothes ripped, and a line of blood appeared. Giulian didn't dare turn to see what had happened, but he heard the sound his friend made. "Harry?" His voice sounded not only anxious, but a good deal younger than it had moments ago. Harold groaned, bending his wounded arm away from Big Brother, pain a rictus on his face, his legs trembling. There were two outlines in the darkness behind Big Brother. A flash of silver cut through the night, visible behind the man for just a moment before it was pressed against his throat. There was no mistaking the edge of the blade: it was deadly sharp, and pressed against his artery. "Go ahead and struggle," a voice whispered hot into his ear. "Makes it easier on me when you bleed yourself to death." Moving just as quick behind Little Brother, taking advantage of the shadows and knowledge of the alleys, a long stick tapped the head, none too lightly, of the stinky fellow facing Giulian. "Don't even think about touching him one more time," a silky voice whispered into his ear. "Struggle just once and you'll follow your friend." When he saw the shadows appear behind Big Brother, Little Brother had put his back to the wall once more, but he did not see very well through his milky eyes, and he did not expect the new arrivals to move so quickly. When the stick hit his head he growled, knocking it aside with his board. "Didna ever want to hurt the lad anyway, did I?" A note of pathetic whimpering entered his rough voice. "Just needed a bit of silver to rub together for warmth... Can't begrudge a man that when he's on his last legs, can you, dearie?" Appearing out of the shadows, Elissa rolled her eyes and whacked him again, deliberately, for the comment. She then flipped the stick and shoved the pointed end against the soft spot under his jawline and ear. "Right, buddy, you never want to hurt the lad or any other lads that you jump. You always need a bit of silver, you lazy idiot. Don't give me that 'last legs' crap. I know you all too well and your story," Elissa said in his ear. She pressed the pointed end a little further into his flesh and stared at Giulian Anderon. Giulian had tensed when the flitting shadows appeared, unsure whether the cavalry had arrived or whether he and Harry were in even deeper trouble. Now, hearing Elissa's words and seeing her face, he relaxed a trifle. At least the face was vaguely familiar. She shook her head at Giulian, keeping the stick against her chosen bad guy to keep him quiet and still. "You all right? Did she or did she not explicitly say, stay out of the alleys?" "It's...It's..." Harold looked at Elissa. "All my fault," Harold said. "It wasn't Jules' idea, it was all--" Harold winced in pain. "--mine." "Harry, I can shoulder my own mistakes, thank you," Giulian snapped. Then to Elissa he said, "No, not explicitly. I imagine she thought we'd have more sense than to see one as a line on a map rather than as a potential trouble spot." The person behind Big Brother cursed. "Jesus, Jules. I thought you had an ounce of sense." Giulian shook his head disgustedly. "Too damned pleased with myself for knowing a short cut," he admitted. With Little Brother effectively pinned, he was able to turn and ask worriedly, "Harry, are you all right?" Harry winced and nodded. "I'll live, if I don't get tetanus or the like from that dirty blade." Giulian muttered a curse of his own, under his breath. "Let me see it," he told Harry. The figure moved from behind Big Brother, the knife lowering. Now, they could see it was Jovanna. "Go," she said darkly. "Unless you want to risk having the town know how a girl can cut you up. And trust me, mate, I can." Twirling the long stick away from Little Brother, Elissa nodded in agreement. "Same with you, buddy, unless you really want something to whine and complain about. If I see you two around these fellas again, I won't be as pleasant with just a bump on your noggin." She set the flat end of the stick on the ground and leaned towards it. "Get out of our sight," she snapped at the 'brothers'. "Damsels doing the rescuing for a change," Harold mused, his wincing keeping him from smiling at the thought. Shaking her head with a sigh at males, nobles at that, Elissa headed for the shadows, keeping one eye on the thugs, held her stick out and hooked one end on her knapsack. She lifted the stick and her bag, letting it slide down until she caught it and slung it on her shoulder. Shifting the pack around, she pulled out a small canteen of fresh water and various other supplies to at least give Harry some first aid treatment. "Come under the light and let me see the wound," Elissa said, tugging on Harry's shirt to bring him near the closest door and flickering light. "Where did you get a wound?" She brought the bottle up and twisted off the top as she set down her knapsack. She knew Jovanna would keep an eye out and make sure the thugs disappeared. It didn't take much prompting on Elissa's part to bring Harry underneath the light. Elissa could see the wound easily, the slash of the shirt of his left arm, the blood sluggishly staining where the shirt had been sliced. Wincing, Harold rolled up the damaged sleeve so that his arm, with the long wound, could be bared. Big Brother glared at Jo and Jules, taking a step back away from them. "This time you walk, girly. Next time will be different," he snarled as he continued to back away toward the street and out of the alley. "Get in line." She spat on the ground. "But you'd be wiser to run next time." "We'll see, missy. We'll see..." Big Brother said as he moved into the shadows. His outline was visible against the street before he moved out of sight. Giulian, noting that Big Brother was still favoring the leg he'd whacked, couldn't resist calling after him, "...and in case you didn't know, the clinic is free." Jovanna kept her eye on Big Brother, but her words were for Elissa. "I've got a place we can get him stitched up without sending up alarms. At the clinic, he'd be recognized." Harold nodded glumly at Jovanna, but turned to regard Big Brother balefully. Giulian nodded also, agreeing with Jovanna. If Isabel was on duty, especially, she'd know Harry instantly, not to mention himself. "That would be advisable. This wound looks nasty, needs to get cleaned out," Elissa said. She dug into her knapsack and pulled out a scarf that she never liked. She wrapped that around the wound and knotted it. "There, that should help you for now. You'll have a new scar to show off." She glanced up at Harry and then stepped back from him, closed her fighting stick and stuck it in her pack. "I suppose I will," Harry said dubiously. He looked at Giulian. "Are you coming along too, Jules?" "Of course I am," said Giulian. "After this, I'm sticking to you like glue until we get home. Where we're staying, that is." Harry then looked at Elissa. "I don't think we've been introduced." He looked to Jovanna expectantly. And Jo slid from underneath that gaze, ignoring the implied request as she resheathed her blade. It seemed to have a home somewhere up her sleeve. "You should be okay for walking. This way." She turned, and headed back into the street. "It's not too far." Giulian gave Jovanna a speculative look, taking in an aspect of her that he had not been previously aware of -- one he found both intriguing and a little alarming. "Call me Elissa," Elissa said, introducing herself. "I'll stick around with you three, just in case. I better give you two my address and how to find me, in case you can't reach her." Giulian nodded acknowledgement and said, "Jules Beason," giving her the pseudonym they'd agreed on -- one he shouldn't have too much trouble remembering to answer to. Harold nodded, still wincing somewhat. "Harry Reid," he said. "Thank you. The both of you," he said, looking at Jovanna as well. "You can give me the address," said Jovanna as they walked. The lamps were lit along the road, though some were beginning to burn low. Others, the oil hadn't been refilled in some time, and were completely out. The street was bursting with shadows, clashing against the light spilling from the still open bars. It wasn't a long walk, though it seemed it with one injured and one crippled slowing them down. Giulian noted the street they were on, only a stone's throw away from their new abode: Tarry Street. "Here," said Jovanna, walking up to a house with black shutters and a black door. She pulled a key out of her pocket and slid it into the lock. "You'll have to be dead quiet," she said over her shoulder. Giulian pursed his lips -- it was difficult to be silent on crutches, as he'd learned from childhood on -- but nodded. Harold nodded in turn, gritting his teeth in obvious discomfort. Elissa looked around, cringing at the thought of being treated here of all places. She glanced over at Harry and Jules, knowing darn well those were aliases. She let them go before her into the building after Jovanna, keeping an eye on the shadows and rooftops. The darkness was still, and though this wasn't the most shiny part of town, it seemed they might be in the clear. Jovanna opened the door as quietly as she could, then motioned the others inside. From what little they could see, those looking could see a homey little place, filled with trinkets and details only a woman's hand could place. Elissa, at least, could see they were a fair step up from what was usually found in this part of town. Jovanna motioned them to follow, wincing at every bump and creak. While her feet knew where to step to move silently, and Elissa could follow, the boys had less of an advantage. Giulian, particularly, had to move slowly and carefully to avoid knocking anything over, and had little attention to spare for where to put his feet and crutch-tips otherwise. Finally, they found themselves in a kitchen. A fire burned low in a stove, giving a reddish glow to the large number of pots and pans hanging on the walls and from the ceiling. Jovanna pulled out a chair and motioned for Harry to sit. "Wait here," she said to all of them. Since Jovanna had spoken, Giulian felt free to ask in a half whisper, "What is this place? Someone's house?" "You would be better not knowing, young noble," Elissa whispered back, letting them know that she knew who they were. Giulian gave her a sharp look at that, but did not otherwise reply. She moved over to Harry's side, carefully checked the scarf she wrapped around his arm. "Slowing down, but you're going to need stitches." Harold nodded glumly. "I was afraid of that," he said quietly. "But, then, I suppose it is better than being eviscer...cut up to death." "Anything is better than death," she said in a soft, glum tone of one who knew far worse things than death. Her long, sensitive fingers pulled off the scarf, refolded it, and tied it back on his arm with a little more pressure on the wound. Jovanna disappeared down a hall, only to return a few moments later with a bleary eyed young woman. She was willowy, dark hair feathered around a pale face. She had a dreamy look to her that didn't leave her when she finished rubbing her eyes. "Jo, what's so bloody impor--" She stopped when she saw the full kitchen, and the heir bleeding on his chair. "Oh hell. Have you been at it again?" "Just sew him up," Jovanna muttered. "I'll make it worth your while." Harold regarded the mysterious woman, focusing on her countenance as a method of shutting away his obvious discomfort. A small voice at the stair distracted her. "Mum?" called out a young boy with dark locks hanging in his eyes. He looked to be perhaps three, with some baby fat still hanging about the edges of his frame. "Joey, to bed with you," she said over her shoulder, then looked back at Harry. "What do you mean--" She cut off as she saw his face more clearly. Her cheeks lost some of their color. "Oh... My Lord, I didn't know..." Harold put a finger to his lips as he regarded the Poetry enthusiast that Romeo had set his eye on not so long ago. She gave him a quick nod, but now her fingers trembled ever so slightly. When she took the needle to his flesh, however, they seemed to steady. Carefully she began to sew up the wound. "This is a knife wound," she commented. "Yes, yes it is," Harold said with a wince, shooting a look and a nod at Giulian. "Funny thing to pick up," she said, glancing at Jovanna, then back at her work. Jovanna had made a point of busying herself across the kitchen with the young boy, giving him a cookie. "Are you in trouble, then? You didn't strike me as the kind to toss about swords for fun." "We got into a fight," Giulian confirmed in a low voice. Watching the girl tend Harry's wound brought that home to him in a way there hadn't been time for till now. Giulian wasn't normally squeamish -- he'd been through too many medical procedures himself for them to affect him that way anymore -- but now the shock was beginning to penetrate and he asked in a somewhat shaky voice, "May I sit down?" "Go right ahead." The woman looked up and nodded at an empty stool. All at once, she seemed to take in Giulian's crutches, his stance, his face... and for a moment, she looked a little curious, and a little panicked. Giulian nodded his thanks and lowered himself onto the stool, making sure to prop his crutches where he could get at them easily. His face looked pale and his eyes wide and dark behind the tinted glasses. Harold turned from his position, watching Giulian as a method of forgetting about the knife wound that was being treated. His winced expression showed that he was not entirely successful. Jovanna looked over her shoulder, something in Giulian's voice triggering her attention. She studied him for a moment, then turned back to the young boy. "I think you should be fine for bed now. You've had your treat, and your mum will be there in a minute." "No," he said resolutely. "There's monsters in the loo." Jovanna quirked an eyebrow. "They were in your closet last time." She looked over her shoulder. "Why don't I get you a drink, Jules?" He nodded and said softly, "Thank you." She left the boy to pick crumbs off of his night shirt and glower sleepily at the room. "They were real," he grumbled. "I heard them through the grate." Jovanna returned with a glass of something brownish in hue. She held it out to Jules. "Here. Rum. It's a cure-all." Giulian, who had expected something more on the order of a glass of water, blinked but took the glass from her, and ventured a cautious sip. The rum bordered on sweet, but it still numbed his tongue and felt like it burned as it went down his throat. After the first sip, however, it didn't seem too awful. "Don't worry about getting drunk," she sighed. "I'll get you home safe and sound." "It's not the getting home I worry about so much as the getting up to go to work in the morning," replied Giulian, but took another sip. "I'm afraid I'm a cheap drunk..." Jovanna jogged him lightly on the shoulder. "You shouldn't let out tidbits like that to strange women. Never know what I might slip you." "That almost sounds like a proposition, Jules," Harold said with a half amused, half pained expression. That earned Harry a quirked eyebrow from Jovanna. "Maybe I like strange women," Giulian quipped with a half-smile. The rum, or the banter, or both, appeared to be restoring his equilibrium somewhat. Jovanna laughed. "Strange? My, you must have the ladies practically throwing themselves at you with a golden tongue like that!" "Your word, not mine," Giulian disclaimed, his smile growing. "How about 'uncommon'?" Harry turned back to regard the young woman treating him. "So, did my Acciaio friend enjoy your poetry?" The woman flushed deeply, and she glanced over her shoulder at the young boy. "Please don't talk about that here," she said quietly, a note of anguish in her voice. "My boy... He picks up on things." Giulian frowned at Harry. Whether or not the girl recognized him, he didn't think Harry should be confirming her guess. Harry looked from the woman to the frowning Giulian. He winced suddenly as a shot of pain ran through his arm. "Rebuke accepted and acknowledged. You're both right." Harry lapsed into a painful silence and, ashamed, became very interested in a spot on the wall opposite him. Having slipped out of the kitchen when the lady came in, Elissa took a decent look around, making sure that the two beggar brothers were still long gone and no one noticed anything out of the ordinary. Satisfied, she walked back in and stopped short at the sight of one heir drinking sweet rum, slightly pale, and the other staring off into space as the lady worked on his arm. She looked at all three of them and then Jovanna. "i missed something around here, didn't I?" She shrugged and moved to lean against a wall once more. "All clear outside if you want to know." "Thanks. And I think they're getting over their shell shock." Jovanna looked over the two men, then back at Elissa. "One hell of a way to start. At least the cut wasn't deep." The small boy, now hunting for a second cookie, gave Elissa a wary look. "There are monsters in the loo," he informed her gravely. Elissa crouched down to face the little boy and smiled at him. She glanced at the kitchen, Jovanna, and then the little boy's face. "I'm sure there are monsters in the loo, but according to those crumbs on your face, I don't think your mum wants you to have another cookie before bedtime." She raised a hand and ran a thumb lightly over his soft cheek with a smile, brushing away the crumbs. "You'll have to face those monsters without another cookie." His crumb-covered lips thinned and he narrowed his eyes at her. "You think I'm joshing. I'm not! There are monsters in there." Jovanna sighed. "Fine, fine. How about we go check them out? There's no more monsters in the loo than wyrms guarding the Nest." |
