'Okay. What the frock is that thing?'
Aar smiles, flourishing like the drama queen he is. Meanwhile, I gape, open-mouthed, at whom they call Goof - and Es calls Goofy-doofy - a butterfly large enough to enter your nightmares but not ordinary doorways. She's the one who trained See along the passageways before sending him to rescue me. 'I know, buddy,' Aar says. 'I know.'
Then we hug. Not to demean the old guy, but this time around, the hug is even better than it was with Mr. Om. I find myself crying tears of relief. Aar, too. I pull Bee into the bundle as well, and See props himself into two legs to join the artshow. 'Goo-baa feel like more cuddles,' she mutters.
I turn to Es. She's smiling. Wow. How I have missed that smile. 'Kill the voice, Es,' I say, trying my best to keep the unadulterated joy at seeing her out of my tone.
She frowns. 'How do you "kill" a voice?'
I roll my eyes; not in frustration, but in renewed marvel of her Innocence. 'Just . . . make See's talking stop, alright? It's creepier than that red-draped woman.'
See looks at me reproachfully. I shrug.
(TJSOMB: Talking See is going to make its way into your dreams, boss -
You have no power now. None. Toot-toot, bye.)
Bee says, 'If you two are done checking each other out, shall we talk business?'
When I realize she's talking about me and Es, I blush deeper than the core of the earth. If Es weren't, like, three-fourth transparent, she'd blush, too.
(I think Mr. Om might have developed some color in his face as well. Took you back to the old days, huh?)
'Good.' Bee claps her hands together. 'Now, I think we should dart while we still can. Go as far away from here as possible. All in favor?'
See, not a clue what's up, barks. 'Hush, boy,' I tell him. 'We don't want to get caught. They'll know we've escaped soon enough.'
No one of our party, however, raises their hand, barring Bee herself.
'Very well, then,' she concedes, abashed. 'All in favor of rescuing Rasthrum?'
My hand is the first to shoot into the air. I came this far, not to escape, but to get what I want. What I deserve. I gently, furtively, slide my hand into the folds of my rags - yes, the shuriken is still there. The kryptonite. My heartbeat quickens for no specific reason.
Es copies me (I don't think she heard a word that Bee said). Followed by Aar and Mr. Om.
Bee sighs. 'Ah, well. Anyone got any bright ideas?'
Es chirps in: 'Goofy-doofy could show us the way, couldn't she?'
The gigantic butterfly flaps its thin, membranous wings enthusiastically.
I'll take that for a yes.