Fiona looks round in
surprise, almost seeing her surroundings for the first time. Right
in front of her stands Larry, looking more than a little cowed and
anxious, rubbing his right hand with his left.
“What did you...?”
she begins to ask, but the midget interrupts.
“We apologise,
M'lady,” he says, “But a short physical intervention seemed the
only way to obtain your full attention.”
“You slapped me?”
she demands, shocked, causing Larry to bow his head with shame.
“Good Lady...”
another voice begins, familiar and silky as before, but with harsh
undertones and strange echoes, as if spoken not by one mouth but
many.
The speaker is the same
golden haired adonis that had so captured her attention mere moments
before, yet now his features have blurred, shadows hang around his
shoulders. Fiona finds it difficult to focus on any of his features.
“Just a few more
moments of your time,” he says, with the voice of a chorus.
